Resurrecting the Dragon
by Dropzone
Summary: When Phenious Viper acquires alien technology, the ducks must figure out who is behind a string of bank robberies. Please read and lemme know what you think. I fixed those pesky spaces.....


*****  I rated the story PG-13 for language, violence, and some adult themes.  Yeah, I know it's long and wordy, but I feel it's worth it. ^-^  Read it and lemme know what you think. ^-^ *****

Resurrecting the Dragon

By: Dropzone © mdodyssey.com

In the old industrial district of Anaheim, opportunities exist for businessmen and crooks alike.  For a price anyone can buy anything they want.  Anything, ranging from the usual stolen cars, drugs, or the 'services' of a local street corner girl.

One of the lesser-known activities exploited by those with the need and desire to operate outside the law and in virtual secrecy is the buying of run-down warehouses.  A string of warehouses collectively known as 'The Shed' is just for that purpose.  Surrounding 'The Shed' is an electrified chain link fence with razor wire on top as security guards man the entrance gates.  The guards, which can be bought for a few hundred dollars, can be counted on to remain ignorant, loyal, and silent to everything they see, hear, and know.

Of course, ordinary citizens have no need for such buildings.  But for those that do, 'The Shed' offers anonymity – the freedom to pursue whatever activity without fear of police raids or crackdowns pinning evidence on those that own the warehouse.  This being that there aren't any records on who actually owns 'The Shed'.  Neither the city nor an individual citizen holds the deed for the warehouses; 'The Shed' is merely lost in the city's bureaucratic paperwork.

The only person that knows the paperwork mix-up is the only one that qualifies as the owner of all the warehouses.  This person is also a mystery.  Known in the criminal underground as merely 'The Landlord', only a few people, mainly the wealthy criminals, know of the person.  The only thing 'The Landlord' requires is money upfront.  In return, no questions are asked, and silence is ensured.

For Phenious Viper, this arrangement suits him perfectly.  Ever since he provided Dragaunus with the artificial building, whose sole purpose was to amplify magnetic waves from the Flux Capacitor to pull meteorites down from space, he has been under close scrutiny from the government.  However, since the components that were discovered in the building could be purchased by anyone, there was no conclusive evidence to convict him.  Nevertheless, Phenious is determined to continue with 'other' business transactions.

Driving his cargo van down the sporadically lit warehouse-lined street, the owner of Vipertronix stops in front of his 'shed'.  Fishing out his remote garage door opener from his trench coat, he presses the overly large button that sets the huge door into motion.  The door sounds like a freight train as the rusty door wheels squeal in protest under the massive weight.  As soon as enough of the door has opened, Phenious sets the van back in motion and enters into the tomb-like interior.  Pressing the remote button two more times in slow succession, he stops the door before reversing its direction.  Slowly turning the van to the right, the headlights slice through the cloak of darkness before they reveal the small spacecraft.  Parking next to the spaceship's airlock, he kills the motor.  Pulling out another remote, Phenious presses the button that turns on the overhead lights.  Bathing the interior of the warehouse in a yellowish glow, he exits the van and waits for his visitor to join him.

He doesn't have to wait too long as Phenious is greeted with a humming and whirring noise from the opening door of the spacecraft.  Moments later, Weasel emerges from the darkened ship.  Stepping into the warehouse, the lamps begin to warm up and transition to a bluish-white light.

"So… do you have the merchandise?" Phenious cautiously asks.

"Of course.  Let's see your end of the bargain." Weasel replies.

Walking around the van, Phenious opens the sliding door revealing a light gray rectangular piece of metal.  Engraved into the top, a radiating sun-like symbol, all four sides depict wavy lines, and bottom holds a dormant moon-like character.  What their meanings are, Phenious didn't know and Weasel doesn't care.  The alien race that had forged this metal has long since vanished from the galaxy – their demise, likewise, unknown.  Moving towards the object, Weasel scans it.  Turning from the van, Phenious can see a faint smile on his furry face.

"We have a deal." Weasel says happily.  Pressing a button on his scanner, a compartment opens on the spacecraft.  Like Weasel, Phenious checks his payment for the traded goods.  Pulling out a Clawword blaster from the open bin, a smile creeps across his face.  Activating the weapon, a medium-toned whine increases until it tops out in a high-pitched hum.  Leveling the blaster at a wooden crate on the other side of the warehouse, Phenious squeezes the trigger.  With a thunderous roar, a purplish bolt erupts from the barrel and streaks towards the target.  A toothy smile etches itself across Phenious' face as the crate explodes into hundreds of wooden shards.

"Nice.  Very nice." Phenious can practically see dollar signs before his eyes.  He knows there are millions, or perhaps, billions to be made.  This is only from one country, too.  He is ecstatic as he thinks about how much is to be made on the open market.  The personal firearm market, law enforcement, and the militaries of all Earth's countries will all want to get their hands on this blaster.  And all it cost him was a worthless block of space metal.  He almost feels bad for Weasel.  After all, Phenious has everything to gain and nothing to loose.

Phenious is perplexed by his amount of good luck lately.  After all, the manner in which he had acquired the alien artifact is even more unbelievable as it had practically fallen in his lap.  The artifact was a part of the meteorite bombardment that hit the Earth when Dragaunus used the Flux Capacitor, and as luck would have it, two artifacts hit his backyard a mere eighty feet from his house.

The mysterious objects perplexed Phenious.  His attention was held briefly on the obvious details in that they were symmetrical and extremely light for their size.  What had a gripping hold on his mind was the fact that they were undamaged by their fiery collision with the Earth's atmosphere and surface.  Because of that curiosity, he had kept both of the alien artifacts on display in his private office within Vipertronix.  When Weasel had contacted him offering to trade advanced alien weapons for one of the artifacts, he knew it was an offer he dare not to pass up.

"Shall we complete the transaction?" Weasel asks.

"By all means." Phenious replies still thinking of all the possibilities.  He knows no one else has technology like this on Earth, so the market is his.  Other people of moral character might consider the implications of introducing technology centuries ahead of the human's evolutionary maturity, but Phenious is not that person.

Shutting down the blaster, he tucks it safely into his trench coat.  Picking up the blaster-leaden crate, he struggles to his cargo van.  Passing Weasel, he sees the furry beast grinning wildly as he examines the block.  Phenious didn't think twice about it.  He could care less what Weasel had in mind for the artifact.  He is busy contemplating how he will reverse engineer these weapons so he can make larger and more powerful models.  Setting the crate in the van, he hurriedly slides the door shut and moves towards the driver's door.  Noticing Weasel is already in his ship preparing it for flight, Phenious fires his van to life.

Driving towards the warehouse's mighty door, he shuts off the overhead lights as he once more triggers the main door to open.  Driving back into the warehouse-lined street, Phenious turns his van towards one of 'The Shed' exits.  Stopping, he waits as Weasel's ship exits the warehouse.  Sticking his head out the window of his van, he watches the spaceship soundlessly hover for a moment.  With a slight humming sound, the ship begins to vertically accelerate and seconds later, disappears into the night sky.   Pressing the remote garage opener one last time, Phenious watches as the door slowly, and noisily, closes.  Satisfied his warehouse is secure, he, too, disappears into the night.

*     *     *     *     *

Holding the metallic block in his hand, Weasel is happy beyond words.  Safely in space and away from Earth's gravity, he plots his course to his home on Solaris VII.

"Twelve blasters.  Twelve cheap blasters for this…." Weasel says holding the block up in front of his face.

"If only he knew what this was, he wouldn't have been so eager to trade it.  Stupid Earthling." Weasel laughs to himself.  He thought it was just a rumor, a myth, that an ancient specie of aliens had discovered a way to amplify power.  Going on nothing but clues and hints, scholar's and scientist's deductions have pointed to Earth's region of space within the galaxy as one of the possible locations of the metal.  Weasel is fortunate that the artifact had crashed on Earth.  If it hadn't, the block of metal would've most likely drifted in space indefinitely and Weasel would've never came into possession of it

How Phenious got hold of the artifacts, Weasel doesn't know and doesn't care.  The surprise and shock stole the air out of his lungs when his scanners revealed its location on one of the suspected planets.  It was by shear luck that he started with Earth's solar system first instead of any number of systems.  It was by even more luck that the artifact was under the control of Phenious Viper, an ally of Weasel's through another associate, Dragaunus.

"Now… what to do with you…." Weasel says holding it up eye level.  "I could use you to get revenge on Kazor and those ducks." Weasel ponders on the thought for a second.

"Nah, seems like a waste of my time.  I could just put a bounty on their heads.  Perhaps I should help out power-starved worlds; I'm sure I could make a lot of money….  Good Samaritan work isn't me, either…." Weasel is at a loss at what to do.  Staring intently at the block, he struggles to think of a brilliant plan.  When nothing comes to him, he clutches his aching head with one hand, and chucks the alien artifact over his shoulder as if he was discarding a piece of trash.

Frustrated, he says to himself, "I'll think of something, and when I do, Kazor and those ducks will pay!"

*     *     *     *     *

Two months have past since Phenious acquired the blasters and he still hasn't made any progress in unraveling its secrets.  Sitting at his desk, Phenious is on the phone with Dr. Ningh Nguyen, his chief electronics engineer.  He is furious at his lack of progress.

"Dr. Nguyen, I _realize_ there is nothing like this on this world.  I also _realize_ there aren't any parts even close to the ones found in that blaster."

"Den how you expect me ta make more?  It's wike trying ta build a nooclear weacter with a… a… coupla coconuts!" Dr. Nguyen says in his heavily accented Chinese.  When he was under stress or pressure, his speech would become more broken and his accent would be heavier.  Eventually, he would revert back to his native language altogether.

"Dr. Nguyen, it's really very simple." Phenious says, hand hurting from clutching his cordless phone tightly.  "Just like all electronic circuits, you have to allow the energy from point A to travel to point B to get the desired outcome.  You understand now?" Phenious says in the most condescending tone as possible.

Dr. Nguyen breaks down and begins to rapidly speak in Chinese.  Phenious didn't know if Ningh was cursing at him, not that he really cared.  Hanging up his phone, he has a pounding headache.  He has spent millions of dollars upgrading his research equipment and millions more on new equipment.  Vipertronix labs are now among the best in the world with cutting edge equipment and the best and brightest employees.  Even after all of this, he is still no closer to unraveling the secrets to this blaster.  Feeling his headache seep to the back of his eyes, he stands up and walks to his bar.  Picking up a small glass, he drops in two ice cubes.  Pouring in two shots worth of the finest vodka, he wonders if his day could possibly get any worse.  Sipping on his headache medicine, he is seething as he looks around his museum-like office, desiring to break something.

"Mr. Viper?" Tina, his young brunette secretary, buzzes him over his intercom.

"What!?" He bellows back a response.

"You, ah, wanted me to let you know when, ah, the Army faxed back a reply.  Ah, it's here, sir." Tina says nervously.

"Bring it in." he replies.  Seconds later, Tina enters Phenious' cavernous room.  Walking nervously across the floor, Phenious watches her every step of the way.  If ever there were a doubt as to why he hired her, those questions would've simply vanished.  Looking her up and down, he notices she is wearing her form clinging, red mini dress.  He is mesmerized by her toned thighs, sumptuous hips, narrow waist, naturally overstuffed top, and full sexy lips that would make grown men grovel at her feet.

Setting the fax down on his desk, the young brunette looks over at Phenious.  "Is there anything else you want me to do?  It's six o'clock…."

Gazing at her lips, and with devious thoughts, Phenious thinks to himself, _"Actually, yes, there is ONE more thing I want you to do for me."_

 Scrunching his face, it looks as if he is in deep thought, but what he was really doing was undressing her with his mind.  Seeing her standing naked in front of his desk makes him break out in a sweat.  Not in the mood to sexually harass his secretary, he finally squeaks out, "No.  That's all for today."

He watches as she turns and gracefully walks towards the door.  Watching as her butt tautly shifts from side to side with each step, he has to consciously will his hand to hang onto his vodka drink, otherwise it would've slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor.  Once she has exited his office, only then does he allow himself to breathe again.

"Hate to see you go, but damn, love to watch you leave." he mutters to himself with a smile as he takes another sip from his drink.  Walking back to his desk, he sets his drink down as his headache starts to abate.  Sitting down at his desk, he picks up the faxed Army reply.

"Dear Mr. Phenious Viper, we at the Department of Defense would like to thank you…." he reads aloud.  Skipping the generic introduction, he scans down to the important part of the message and starts reading again.  "… however, we are not interested in purchasing your 'anti-armor/anti-personnel blaster' at this time.  Also, we would like to ask that you do not sell, trade, or lend said blaster to any persons, groups, organizations, or countries."

Phenious is livid.  Slamming the fax down on his desk, he grabs a blaster from his desk drawer and charges it in one smooth motion.  Leveling the blaster on the second of the alien artifacts, he squeezes the trigger.

He watches as the familiar purplish bolt streaks towards the metal block, impact the dormant moon side, pass through to the radiating sun end, and emerge as a much larger energy charge.  To his surprise, he watches as a purplish bolt six times its normal size punches a hole in his wall and keeps going through three more offices.  Looking down at the blaster in his hand, he is shocked beyond words.

"Mr. Viper?  Are you okay?" Tina asks poking her head into the gapping hole.

"Oh yes, I'm doing much better now." he replies with a grin on his face.  Tina nervously pulls her head back out of sight.

"Oh, Tina?"

"Yes, Mr. Viper?" she asks poking her head back into view.

"Would you be so kind as to call the contractors tomorrow?"

"Yes, Mr. Viper." she responds pulling her head back.

Hearing her hard-soled high-heeled shoes slap the floor on the way to the elevators, he knows he is alone once more.  Picking up his glass, he walks back to his bar for more vodka.  He has, after all, much planning to do.

*     *     *     *     *

Lounging in the dayroom, Mallory is curled up on the couch with the latest fashion magazine.  Unenthusiastically flipping through the pages of the more eccentric outfits, she doesn't know why she even wastes her time with Earth's bizarre sense of fashion.  She has no desire to dress like these stick-like girls, anyway.  She relies on herself for her own sense of style.

Nosedive sighs.  He is sitting on the floor with his back resting against an adjacent couch.  A coffee table sits directly in front of him and the darkened TV looms against the wall facing him.

"Man!  I'm bored!  Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored!" Nosedive says aloud.

"Nosedive, why don'tcha watch TV?" Mallory retorts.

"Nuthin' good on."

"Go read your comics or go hang out with Thrash and Mooky… just do something!"

"Already read my comics twice and Thrash and Mooky aren't around this weekend."

"Then go to the beach!" Mallory says.  She is getting ready to hit the young mallard.

"Ennnigh…." He says rocking his hand side to side dismissing her suggestion.

"I'll go ta da beach wit ya, sweetheart.  I gotta new swimsuit I wouldn't mind showin' off ta ya." Duke says appearing behind the couch Mallory was curled up on.

Whipping her head around, her surprised wide-eyed expression meets his deviously grinning face.  It takes her a second to realize that he just hit on her.  Seeing the way he is gazing at her unlocks her shocked mind.

"Duke!  What makes you think I'd want to do anything with you?" She retorts.  Duke climbs over the back of the couch and sits next to Mallory.  Sitting up, she keeps her closed knees between her and him.

"Well, I'm the most eligible guy around here.  Let's face it.  Grin's not your type, Wildwing doesn't like ya like that, and Nosedive, no offense," Duke says gesturing with his right hand at Dive, "is just a kid.  So, that leaves me." Duke happily replies.

Mallory is uncomfortable.  She doesn't like this kind of attention from him and she sure doesn't like the way he is looking at her.  The devious grin he had plastered on his face revolts her.  Swinging her feet off the couch, she sets her magazine down and turns to the end table to pick up her glass of ice water.  Taking a sip, she holds the glass in her lap.

"What makes you think I don't like Wildwing?" Mallory asks.

"Ha Ha!  Wildwing?  He doesn't have anything over me!" Duke responds.

"Oh really?  Like what?" She asks with a curious look on her face.

Slipping into his suave mode, Duke begins to reel in the baited Mallory.  "Well, for starters, I know how to treat a lady.  I'm always attentive to her needs.  I always treat her with respect." Duke says in his most silky and most smooth voice.  With each one of Duke's lines, Mallory scoots closer to the older drake.  She is putty in his hands.

Putting an arm around her shoulder, Duke says, "And I'm always… always… an undying romantic." He knows he has her with that last line.  Looking up, her olive-green eyes meet his jade-colored eye.

"Well then, Mr. Romantic, I guess you need this more than I do." Mallory says while dumping the icy contents of her glass into his lap.  Springing up, Duke tries futilely to remove the already soaking liquid from his crotch.

"Sorry, Duke.  Just not interested in ya that way." She says walking to the dayroom's exit with the magazine in one hand and the empty glass in the other.  "I just hope there isn't anyone else from that little gang of yours that thinks from the waist down." She says before walking out into the hallway.  Walking back towards her room, she has no remorse for what she did.  Duke should know by now that he and her are incompatible like oil and water.  She knows he is just desperate and that he normally wouldn't go after her if they were back on Puckworld.

Duke just stands there as he watches her go.  He is still shocked she did that.  He figured that last line would've melted even her cold heart.  Right now, Duke wished he was back on Puckworld where the pickings weren't so slim.

"Hey Duke?" Nosedive pipes up.

"What, Dive." Duke asks irritably.

"I'm bored."

*     *     *     *     *

Sitting on the floor in his room, Grin is surrounded by his lit meditation candles.  For two hours now, he has been trying to focus his thoughts, but without luck.  Just when his mind was cleared and he was at ease, he'd find himself thinking of Jade, his wife back on Puckworld again.  With a heavy sigh, he uncrosses his legs and blows out each of the numerous candles one by one.

Leaving his room, he can't help but wonder what is going on back home.  He wonders if his wife is okay.  He also wonders if Puckworld has its freedom since Dragaunus has been driven from their planet.  He hopes that one day he'll find the answers to his questions.  But, most importantly, he hopes that one day he'll get to see his wife once more.

Grin is almost to the kitchen when the alarm on his com goes off.  Checking the device, he sees it's a Drake 1 emergency.  Turning around, he heads for the elevators.  Arriving at the closed doors, he no sooner presses the 'Up' button when the rest of his sleepy teammates rush up to him.  Looking at each of them, it looks like they'd been asleep just long enough to make them irritable, groggy, and basically, look like hell.  Once the doors open, they all squeeze into the elevator and ride one floor up.

Rushing up to Drake 1, Wildwing presses the alarm button and instantly the disturbance's location is given.

"Break in at Pacific Western Bank.  To the Migrator!" Wildwing shouts trying to sound energetic even when he is dead tired.  Before he finished telling them where the disturbance was, everyone was already sprinting towards the R.V.-sized vehicle.

*     *     *     *     *

Pulling up to the bank, numerous police cruisers with their flashing red and blue lights litter the area.  Parking in an out-of-the-way location, the ducks meander their way through a few police officers too busy in random tasks to notice them.  Crossing the police line, the ducks approach Captain Klegghorn and another police officer.

"… but, by the time we got here, they musta been long gone… hey!  What are you all doing here?  Leave immediately or we'll have you placed under arrest!" The first cop on the scene shouts at the ducks.

Turning his head towards the ducks, Klegghorn says, "No, they can stay.  I want their help on this one."  He motions the ducks to follow him with a wave of his hand.

Leading them inside the bank through the front doors, they make their way to the crime scene.  Stepping into the lobby, a gapping hole in the brick wall to the left allows the police lights, along with the sweet night air, to intrude into the bank.  Next to the hole, police investigators are dusting for fingerprints on several flat metal carts.  Straight ahead lies the vault, or what is left of it.  Walking up to the ransacked vault, Duke whistles in amazement.

"Wouldja look at that…." He says.

"Impressed?" Mallory snidely asks.

"You bet!" Duke counters.  Pointing to the steel vault door smashed into the vault's far wall.  "That door must weigh at least a ton, and to embed it in that wall twenty feet away?"

"Actually, the door only weighs one thousand pounds.  Anything heavier requires more structural reinforcement and mechanical assistance to move." The bank director Van Hausen says as he appears behind the ducks and Klegghorn.  Turning to Klegghorn, he points a thumb at the ducks.  "What are _they_ doing here?"

"_They_ are helping with this investigation." Klegghorn replies defiantly.

"Were those cameras recording during the robbery?" Wildwing asks, gesturing to the numerous cameras scattered around the lobby.

"Luckily yes, someone forgot to switch them off before they left for the night." Van Hausen quickly replies.

Turning to the group, Wildwing speaks.  "Tanya, Grin, Duke, and Mallory… look for clues.  Nosedive, come with me; we have some tapes to check." With that, everyone goes to their delegated areas with Klegghorn following Van Hausen; Wildwing and Nosedive trailing close behind.

Walking around the lobby area, the ducks look at the jagged and singed, eight-foot diameter hole in the brick wall.

"You suppose this is how they broke in?" Mallory asks.

"No.  This is where they exited.  You can tell because there are bricks in the parking lot." Grin speaks up, surprising everyone.

Seeing that he is right, Mallory poses her next question.  "Then how did they get in here?  The front door?"

"Maybe." Grin's rumbling voice responds.  Turning from the brick wall, they walk over to where the vault door originally hung.  Looking at the wall, they can see that the area that supported the door appears to be jagged and almost twisted inward.  It was as if God himself had punched the vault open.

"Tanya, what do you think caused this?  Looks like a huge explosion caved this wall in!" Mallory asks breathlessly.  "But, if that were the case, why isn't the rest of the lobby destroyed, too?" Mallory asks turning to the science tech.

"Huh… lets see what my omnitool finds." She replies holding the arm-mounted tool up to the metal.  Once the scan cycle is complete, she reports her findings.  "There's a good number of residual ionized tachyons.  I didn't know the humans, you know, had the technology to collect tachyons, not to mention be able to ionize them."

Moving into the vault, they see all the valuable items bins have been picked clean.  It wasn't the bins that caught their eye, but the vault door itself.  Walking up to the once gray, stainless steel door, they notice a black and blistered discoloration approximately five feet in diameter.  Outside this diameter, a metallic blue color tarnished the silvery-gray surface.

"You know what this looks like?" Mallory asks with a scowl on her face.  "It looks like a plasma burn.  A _really_ big plasma burn.  If the humans _had_ plasma technology, the machine needed to make this would've been huge!  There's no way they coulda gotten it through the front door!"  Mallory finishes with a wide-eyed expression.

"Plasma burns… ionized tachyons….  I bet I know what did this." Duke says.  Once he has everyone's attention, he continues, "I bet it was an EP-3."

"Are you sure?  I heard that weapon was only a rumor." Mallory retorts.

"It must be.  You know Dexinol leaves a residue of ionized tachyons once exploded…." Duke counters.

"Uh, what are you two talking about?" Tanya asks.

"A new Clawword weapon, the EP-3, was rumored back on Puckworld when I was in the resistance.  I know I was hoping to get my hands on one…." Mallory comments.

Seeing confused faces from Grin and Tanya, Duke explains.  "Okay, energy weapons… the most basic is the laser.  Doesn't leave any residue behind; it's a clean weapon.  Only problem is it needs bulky equipment that must be finely tuned.  This is where the humans are…." Duke says.

Continuing on, "Now plasma weapons aren't like lasers.  They don't work by focusing light; they work off of, well, plasma fuel.  All a plasma 'blaster' does is heat the fuel and it reacts by 'blasting' out the barrel." Duke says gesturing with his finger a blaster shot flying through the air.

"Now the EP-3 uses Explosive Plasma.  Someone got the bright idea to mix Dexinol in with the plasma fuel.  As you know Dexinol is very unstable, so it is very good at putting holes in anything you want." Duke says motioning to the vault door.  "The '3' means this was their third attempt at getting the design and fuel mixture correct.  Who knows how many times those previous EPs blew up in the tester's hands…." Duke says finishing.

"Duke, you don't strike me as a weapons expert, so how do you know all this information?" Mallory says carefully looking at the drake's face.

"I, ah, use to date this girl back on Puckworld that was into guns and explosions.  Fire, too….  But, we had a falling out and I haven't seen her in years." Duke quickly replies.

Sticking his head into the vault, Nosedive cheerfully speaks up.  "Hey, fellow ducks!  Didja find anything?"

"Oh yeah… we found plenty.  Find anything on those tapes?" Tanya asks.

"Yeah, that's why I came to getcha.  Have something ya need to see." He replies pulling his head back.  Following the young mallard, they meander through the hallway until they arrive at the security office.  Crowding into the small room, everyone is just barely able to see the top video monitor.  Playing back the tape, everyone watches as a masked figure holds up an object towards the vault door.  Seconds later, they watch as a large energy discharge blows the door off its hinges and disappears from view.  Before the smoke had cleared, another masked figure jumps into the vault while the first thief blows the hole in the side of the bank.  During the next two minutes, they watch as the thieves quickly liberate Van Hausen's bank of four million dollars worth of gold and gems.

Rewinding the tape, Duke and Mallory try to catch a glimpse of the weapon, but because of the camera's poor quality, they can't make out too much.  Each time they back the tape up and watch the robbery over again, it makes Van Hausen visibly ill.

"What did you find in the vault?" Wildwing asks.  Laying everything out, Duke explains to the team leader and Klegghorn what they've discovered.  When he finishes, he can tell they didn't like what he had to say.  

Folding his arms across his chest, Klegghorn's raised eyebrows warned the ducks that the police captain had something to comment on.  "Sooo… someone is running around Anaheim… with a highly dangerous weapon… and we have no way of stopping them, is that correct?"

"Yeah…  I'd say that's about tha gist of it, Captain." Duke replies with a slight upbeat tone of voice.

"Okay, wiseguy, then how do _you_ suggest we deal with these thieves?" Klegghorn says as he tries to restrain himself from shouting at the drake.

"Oh, I dunno… maybe… set up cameras on other banks 'round Anaheim an' hope you get lucky."

"Hope we get lucky, huh?" Klegghorn replies incredulously.  "So, when the mayor, or better yet, _the governor_, asks me what we are doing to catch these people, I'm suppose to say, 'Well, sir, we don't have any clues or any leads but we are hoping to get lucky when they knock over another bank'?!?" Klegghorn shouts as he takes a step towards the mallard.  "Is that the BEST advice you can think of?!"

"Well whatta want me ta do?  Go 'round an' ask who did it?  Crime fightin' ducks aren't too popular with tha thieves on this planet, ya know!" Duke shouts as he likewise takes a step forward.

With outstretched arms, Grin steps in between the two before a fistfight would've broken out.  Everyone is tired and on edge.  Grin is the only one whom seems impervious to short and frayed tempers.  With a massive hand on each of the antagonists, Grin speaks up, "The question needs to be asked on how they got into the bank."

Grin's words pull Van Hausen's numb mind back into reality.  "The night watchman didn't report into work.  We don't know if he is a member of the thieves responsible or not."

Klegghorn adds, "I've sent some men to the watchman's house to check on him.  We should know soon if we can count him as a suspect or not."

With that said, everyone silently hopes some questions will be answered soon, because as of right now, everyone is tired and out of possible suspects.

*     *     *     *     *

Walking to the payphone, Phenious Viper makes sure no one is following him.  He had driven around Anaheim for the better part of an hour and then, only when he was sure he wasn't being tailed, stopped to make a phone call.  Dialing the number from memory, the phone on the other end begins to ring.  The phone rings twice before being answered by a gruff, Scottish-accented voice.

"So, has the package been delivered?" Phenious carefully asks.  Even though he knows no one could possibly be tapping this pay phone, he nevertheless takes every precaution.  

"Aye.  Got to its destination with no problems, lad.  The equipment has been stored as you instructed." The Scottish voice replies.

"Excellent. The payments will be deposited to the accounts specified, as per our agreement, first thing tomorrow morning.  Are you interested in conducting further business transactions?" Phenious asks.  Angus and Liam have come with high praise from their previous employer as being quick and efficient thieves.  That being the case, their quarter of a million dollar service fee is a worthwhile investment, especially when it is almost a guarantee there'll be a payoff.  Phenious can see now that the praise is definitely accurate.

"Aye, that we would."

"I will contact you at this phone number in one week's time with the specifics for the next assignment." Phenious replies.

"The lad and I will be waitin' fer your call."

With that, both parties hang up their phones.  Phenious is elated this robbery went so well.  The only thing he had difficulty with was their wages.  But after hearing they managed to grab all of the four million dollars worth of the vault, half a million from his personal bank account didn't seem too bad of a return on his meager investment.

Returning to his vehicle, he puts it back in 'Drive'.  He is glad he opened a foreign bank account years ago.  No doubt the FBI is monitoring all his business and his personal bank transactions.  But with a foreign account, they have no jurisdiction.  He is free to move several millions without raising anyone's eyebrow.

Arriving at his house at two in the morning, Phenious knows that his bank in Zurich is open.  Fighting back the fatigue, he sits down at his personal computer and logs onto his online account.  In a few minutes, he transfers the necessary funds to both Angus's and Liam's accounts.  Once that simple task is completed, he logs off and rubs his face while yawning into his hands.  Tomorrow he'll call his mafia contact and begin to make the gold and gems disappear from his shed, launder it, and have the funds transferred to his foreign account, minus their fees, of course.

Walking to his room, he is glad that he doesn't have a typical nine to five job.  After kicking his shoes off, he falls into bed not bothering to shower.  Before slipping into sleep, he mumbles, "It's good to be king."

*     *     *     *     *

Riding the elevator down to the exercise level, Tanya steps out once the doors open.  Walking down the aisle, the pool is to the left and the weight room, where Mallory is waiting for her, is to the right.  As she makes her way towards the glass-walled gym's door, she sees that Mallory is stretching by the ceiling mounted punching bag.  Stepping inside, Tanya looks around and notices that they are alone, which is how they like it.  She doesn't mind working out with the other ducks around, it's just nice to be alone and talk to Mallory without others listening in.  Walking up to Mallory, Tanya begins to stretch out as well.

After a couple of warm up moves, both females are ready to go.  Mallory is up at the bag first.  Taking up a fighting stance, she begins to pummel the bag in left/right combinations.

"Has Duke been acting 'funny' around you?" Mallory asks.  She is dressed in a maroon halter-top that shows off her toned midsection.  Her shorts are the same color as her top, but with the addition of a thick, silver stripe down each side.  Along with her outfit, she is wearing running shoes and black-fingerless gloves; her red hair is as unruly as ever.  Trading off, it is Tanya's turn at the bag.

"What do you mean by 'funny'?" Tanya asks.  Like Mallory, Tanya has a matching workout suit.  But, instead of maroon and silver, hers is blue and yellow.  Likewise, she has a pair of running shoes with black fingerless gloves; her hair is pulled back into a rare ponytail that sways back and forth with each punch thrown at the bag.

"Funny, you know, disgustingly flirtatious… giving you unwanted attention." Mallory explains.

As Tanya continually pounds the bag, her breathing grows heavier as her speech becomes more of an effort.  "You and Duke… are nothing… alike." Sweat is starting to bead on her forehead from the exertion.  Turning from the bag, Tanya steps aside to allow Mallory her turn.  "What happened?"

"Oh, yesterday he got the bright idea to hit on me." Mallory comments matter-of-factly.  Catching a glimpse of the blonde's eager facial expression, it was obvious she wanted all the juicy details.  Continuing to work on the punching bag, Mallory recounts yesterday's events careful not to leave anything out.  By the time most of her story had been told, she too was breathing heavily.

"And then what did you do?" Tanya asks.  She is barely able to restrain herself.

Hearing a laugh threatening to erupt from the science tech, Mallory pauses from the punching bag and turns to Tanya with a smirk cocked on her bill.  "I poured ice water in his lap." She had no sooner spoke those words then Tanya finally broke down.

Doubled over, Tanya laughs the hardest Mallory had ever heard from her.  "I wish… I wish… I wish I coulda seen his face!" She finally manages to say once her breathing was under control.  Watching Tanya laugh made Mallory feel good.  She knew there wasn't much to laugh about lately, so every little bit was welcome.  Turning her attention back to the bag, Mallory resumes the pounding.

"No, Duke hasn't been acting 'funny' around me.  I don't think Duke would even like me.  I think he'd be, I don't know, afraid I'd break him in half or something.  I think he likes, you know, skinny little ducks like you, Mallory." Tanya replies.  Tanya was by no means fat.  But where she lacked being toned, she made up for in muscle bulk.

Measuring herself up at the bag, Mallory moves from punching to kicking.  "Yeah _thump!_… lucky _thump!!_… ME_THUMP!!_!" She replies after each kick is more forceful than the previous.

"Geez, Mallory, I wouldn't want you to kick me.  Looks like you could break some bones or something." Tanya says before continuing on.  "So, do you think he got the hint that you don't like him like that?"

"I hope so." Mallory says without hesitation.  Trading off at the bag, she notices movement out of the corner of her eye.  Turning her head, she sees Duke walking down the glass-lined aisle towards the gym's entrance door.  Before he even had his hand on the door handle, Mallory gets a sinking feeling in her stomach that round two is about to begin.

Locking eyes with Mallory, Duke casually walks around various gym objects with a sort of sly finesse as he heads right for the two females at the bag.  Looking at his face, Mallory's sinking feeling becomes a knot.  Plastered on his face is his usual buccaneer smirk that Mallory has come to despise.  

"Hmmm, don't you ladies look… smashing." Duke comments with his typical devious facial expression.  The feathers on the back of Mallory's neck stand up.  Tanya stops punching the bag and moves to Mallory's side.  "You know, Mallory, if you need a sparing partner for wrestling, I'd be more than happy to offer my services."

The thought of rolling around on a mat with Duke revolts her.  Balling up a fist, she punches the drake in the chest, knocking him to the floor.

Once the surprise wears off, he springs up from the floor and steps towards the redhead.  "What didja do that for?  What, you don't like _guys_ or something?" Duke angrily asks.

"I like guys just fine.  I just don't like _you_." She shouts back at him.

"Well then, good luck finding a boyfriend around here!" Duke says before turning away from the two females and storms out of the gym.

Once Duke had exited the gym and was heading back towards the elevator, Tanya turns to Mallory.  "I think he got the hint now."

Mallory doesn't say anything as she moves to the punching bag.  Putting the encounter behind her, she tries to clear her mind.  Lacking Grin's Zen-like tranquility, her fiery nature asserts itself.  Fueled by adrenaline the encounter had brought on, she begins to throw left/right punches along with alternating roundhouse kicks with a renewed vigor.

*     *     *     *     *

A week has gone by and they aren't any closer to solving the Pacific Western bank robbery.  It turns out that the night watchman, along with his wife and kids, were at home bound and gagged.  Only after days of endless questioning and hounding by the police, Captain Klegghorn cleared him as primary suspect.  That didn't, however, save him from the wraith of bank director Van Hausen.

During the interrogation by the police, it was discovered that the night watchman was the bank's evening-shift manager's brother-in-law.  Cracking under the pressure of the police, the watchman admitted to being habitually late to work because of family problems.  Being that the manager and the watchman were related by the manager's sister, his tardiness was never reported, and instead of waiting for the watchman to show up to work, the manager took it upon himself to make him his own personal key to the bank's front door.

The only way the police could explain how it happened was that the thieves must have staked out the bank and tailed the watchman to find out where he lived.  Discovering that he came to work after the bank was shut down for the night, the thieves obviously figured the watchman to have a key and a code to the alarm system.

Once Captain Klegghorn reported his findings to the bank director, it didn't take too long before both the manager and the watchman were both fired and escorted from the bank's premises.  Klegghorn, however, didn't feel any vindication from unraveling one mystery has it still hasn't yielded any clues.  Still stuck at square one, he has no choice but to fall back on Duke's off-cuff suggestion.

Setting up surveillance at other probable targets, they have no choice but to wait and hope the robbers will strike again.  Putting four cameras on each of the eleven remaining banks, Tanya has all the images displayed on Drake 1's massive screen.

Wildwing turns to Duke.  "What else can we do to help us detect these thieves?"

"Well, hehe, if I were breaking in, you'd need to do _a lot_ more.  But, since these guys like the quick and dirty approach, these oughtta do it."  Duke comments.  Following last week's embarrassing incident in the dayroom and the gym, Duke has cooled off on Mallory.  As much as he wanted to believe that Mallory would eventually accept his attention and affections, it was painfully obvious that she didn't.  Not letting that weigh him down, he moves forward and puts last week behind him.

Satisfied that every precaution has been taken, Wildwing turns to the rest of the team.  "Okay everyone, you know the deal, four hour shifts starting with Nosedive, you got Drake 1.  Grin and Mallory, you two got the Aerowing."  With that everyone splits up and goes their separate ways.  Following Grin towards the elevator, Mallory grumbles to herself.

"I hope we catch these thieves soon." She says finally giving voice to her thoughts.  Stepping inside the elevator, she turns her attention to Grin.  "How about you?  What do you think about all of this?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"Come on, Grin, you have to have an opinion on this." Mallory retorts.  Pressing the button to take them up to the hanger level, Grin doesn't say anything.  "What's wrong with you anyway?"

"Just thinking about my wife, Jade." Grin replies as the elevator doors open revealing the Migrator parked nearby and the Aerowing on its launch pad off in the distance.

With her mouth open and a look of surprise on her face, Mallory is too stunned to say anything.  She watches as Grin exits the elevator and walks towards the Aerowing.  Her mind kicks back into motion when the elevator doors begin to close.  Sticking her arm in the path of the closing door, she forces the door back open.  Exiting the elevator, she rushes up to Grin's side.

"Your wife?  You're married?!" She asks in total surprise.

"Yeah."

"Who is she?  How did you two meet?" Mallory fires off each question in quick succession.

"Jade was an assassin.  She tried to kill me."

"Then why did you marry her?" She asks incredulously.

Seconds tick by before he answers her.  "We reached an understanding." Grin replies.  Mallory stops walking and watches as Grin makes his way towards the Aerowing's ramp.

Shaking her head, she mutters, "You're a strange one, Grin."  Following Grin up the ramp, she makes her way to the cot towards the back of the ship.  Lying down, she pulls the blanket up to her shoulders and quickly falls asleep as Grin situates himself at the control panel.

*     *     *     *     *

Pounding up the ramp, Wildwing rushes up to Mallory.  "Wake up, Mallory!  We gotta go!"

Throwing the blanket off of her, she rubs her face as she yawns.  Checking her watch, she sees that she had been asleep for only an hour and a half.  The thought of arguing and protesting being woken up never entered her mind.  She isn't like other female ducks of Puckworld.  While others of her gender would resist waking up with so little sleep, she forces herself to get up as a matter of discipline.  Being with the Special Forces on Puckworld, she knows she can push herself past the point of exhaustion and continue on with the mission while others would quit and beg for mercy.

She is happy now; now is a time of action.  Before was a time of waiting; she hates waiting.  Collapsing the cot, she quickly stows it into an adjacent locker along with the blanket.  Moving towards her chair, Nosedive walks up the ramp yawing loudly.

"What's going on?" Mallory asks.

"Uughhh! Break-in at a bank in San Francisco." He replies falling down into his chair.  As soon as he buckles himself in, he immediately falls back to sleep.

Moments later, after the Aerowing is put into launch position, it erupts out of the Pond and begins its northbound flight to the scene of the latest robbery. 

*     *     *     *     *

Arriving at the crime scene a half-hour later, the ducks walk up to the yellow streamers indicating a police barricade.  There, talking with one of his deputies, police Captain Richardson is speaking in quiet tones around the eager ears of the circling news media.  Careful not to leak details about the case, he keeps out a watchful eye, not only for eavesdroppers, but for his boss as well.  Richardson's eyes scan the crowd, freezing on Wildwing as he and his team approaches.  Quickly dismissing his subordinate, Richardson moves to head off the ducks.

He was already in a bad mood and seeing the hockey team on his crime scene only heightened his angst.

"What do _you_ want?" Richardson speaks as hostility rolls off his tongue.

"We would like to see the crime scene, Captain.  We have a similar investigation in Anaheim and we believe the two are related.  Perhaps we could share information to catch the people responsible?" Wildwing says trying his best to sound official and 'police-like'.  He wished Klegghorn could've joined them in San Francisco to add credibility to his story.

Captain Richardson doesn't say anything as he stares at Wildwing.  Seconds later, he breaks his silence.  "I imagine playing hockey full-time doesn't afford you much time to pursue a law enforcement degree, correct?  So then, why are you here?  Do you think us poor, backwards saps would be lost without the help of you 'superior beings'?"

Before Wildwing can reply, Tanya butts in.  "Listen pal, we have access to technology that you don't!" she snaps at him.  A three o'clock wake up with only a few hours of sleep is enough to make even the good-natured Tanya have a short fuse.

Shifting his attention to the blonde, Richardson looses his cool.  "So, you think our multi-million dollar crime lab can't POSSIBLY figure out what a group of puck-chasin' ducks can?!" He says not bothering to keep his voice quiet from the attentive ears of the nearby news media.  "I tell you what.  If us 'lower life forms' can't figure it out, I'll be on my knees begging and pleading to you 'non-law enforcement persons' for your _expert_ crime-solving help, mmm 'kay?"  Richardson's condescending voice says dripping with sarcasm.  "Until then, leave the crime solving stuff to us law enforcement professionals." His harsh toned voice stings her ears.

Tanya clinches her fists as her eyes burn with an uncharacteristic rage.  Seeing her body tense up, Grin knows she is seconds away from snapping and pummeling the police captain.  Putting a hand on her shoulder, he bends down and speaks loud enough for only her to hear.  "Now is not the time."

Shrugging his hand off her shoulder, she turns away and storms back to the Aerowing with the rest of the ducks trailing her.  Turning to the police captain, Duke speaks up with a grin on his face.  "Ehh, when ya can't figure out why the vault door is discolored and blown across the room, we'll be over der." He says pointing his thumb at the Aerowing in the parking lot.  As Duke turns and follows the rest of his teammates, Captain Richardson is shocked.  

_"I know they haven't seen the crime scene yet, so how did he know about the vault door?"_ Richardson thinks to himself.  Suddenly, he has a sinking feeling that he just sealed his own fate with his arrogance.  Not bothering to look over at the journalists, he imagines all cameras and microphones are trained on him.  He doesn't need this kind of attention now.  Ever since he entered the race for San Francisco's Chief of Police job, his life has been under the microscope.  Turning from the police barricade, he walks back towards the bank, ignoring the media's pleads for a moment of his time.  He knows they want to ask him about the confrontation that they just witnessed, but he has no desire to look like more of a fool in the public's eye than he already has.  Besides, he has a job to do, and redoubling everyone's efforts is the top of his priority.

*     *     *     *     *

Grumbling to herself, Tanya is pacing back and forth inside the Aerowing.  With a smile on her face, Mallory enjoys watching the science tech with her feathers ruffled, as she has never seen that side of her before.

"Geee, Tanya, didn't know ya had it in ya." Mallory comments as Tanya continues pacing.

"Stupid human!  I really _hate_ arrogant people!" She says as she plops down in her chair with arms folded across her chest.  Silence returns to the Aerowing as everyone is either too tired or too frustrated to speak.  After several minutes, Wildwing breaks the silence.

"Everyone, try to get some sleep… I'll keep watch…." He says tiredly standing up, leaving the Aerowing's control panel behind.  Looking around, he sees that almost everyone is already passed out; Nosedive's head is lolled off to one side with beak gapping open and a thin trail of drool leaking out of the corner of his mouth.  Walking past him, he softly exhales a puff of air and shakes his head in a brotherly regard.  Wildwing always wondered about his younger brother.  Deep down, he knows his brother will always remain the same goofy duck that he is now.

Walking down the front ramp, the welcoming moist, night air greets him.  Taking a deep breath of the nighttime air, he removes the mask and he rubs his tired face.  The week of long hours and little sleep is taking its toll on him.  Just like his teammates, he hopes they'll soon catch the people responsible for these robberies so life can return back to normal.

"Now, if only we can see the crime scene, MAYBE we could shed some light on this investigation…." Wildwing irritably mutters to himself.  Pacing back and forth, he knows there is nothing that he can do now but wait.  Hours creep by as Wildwing fights to stay awake.  Watching as the news reporters around the bank finally disperse, Wildwing watches as a loan figure approaches the Aerowing.  The early morning sun is beginning to raise revealing Captain Richardson.

"I, uh, need your help on this case." Richardson mumbles unable to make eye contact with Wildwing.

"I know." The goalie responds as he puts his mask back on.  "Wait here, I'll be right back." He says walking up the ramp to wake his team.

Moments after disappearing into the darkened interior of the duck's ship, Wildwing returns with the team being led by Tanya.  With arms folded across her chest, a look of distain is obvious on her face.  "What do _you_ want?" She asks.

"I, uuh, need to ask for your help on this one." Richardson says softly unable to make eye contact with her.

"Do you remember what you told us a few hours ago?" Tanya asks.  If her stare could kill someone, Richardson would be dead thousands of times over.  He looks up into Tanya's eyes with a blank expression.  "You said if you needed the help of us 'puck chasers', you'd come begging and pleading for our help on your knees.  I don't see you on your knees."

"Please… don't make me do that."

"Oh yes you will!" She shouts pointing a finger at him.  "You've insulted us and we won't help you until you do so!"

Richardson looks around, wondering if anyone from the bank is watching him.  Seeing no one in sight, he doesn't relax much knowing that anyone could be looking out one of the numerous picture windows in the bank's wall.  Issuing a sigh, he slowly drops to his knees, grudgingly realizing that he is indeed allowing himself to be humiliated.

_"I'm a police captain!  Why am I letting these ducks do this to me?"_ Richardson thinks as the asphalt bites at his knees.  "Would you please help me?" He asks quietly.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?  My 'non-law enforcement persons' ears aren't that good anymore.  You have to speak up." A faint smile appears at the edge of her mouth as she is obviously enjoying this.

"Would you please help me?" He says more demanding than asking.

"Ehhh?" She says turning her head towards him and cupping her hand to her ear.  "You're still whispering.  Musta been from all those years of 'chasin' pucks' around the ice."

"Would you PLEASE help me?!" He shouts as his humiliation gives way to anger.

"Of course we'll help you.  All you had to do was ask." Tanya says.  A smile returns to its rightful place on her face as she walks past the kneeling captain and makes her way towards the bank.  The sweet feeling of vindication courses through her veins; her foul mood has all but subsided.  Captain Richardson feels the humiliation return as the rest of the ducks walk past him casting fleeting, exuberant glances.  Rising to his feet, he turns and follows them towards the bank.  The more he looks at them, the more he starts to despise them.  He wishes there was a law against humiliating the captain of a police force, because he'd cuff every last one of them and haul them off to jail after they had helped him with the bank robbery.  The idea of pushing that blonde's head down into the back of the cop car brings a smile to his face.

Walking through the front doors of the bank, the walls resonate the activity.  Small groups of policemen dominate the bank.  Some huddle around the thief's exit hole in the wall searching for clues, while others congregate around the vault.  As some scour the floors for the thieves' identity, other clichés of troops pour over reports and documentation.  The only person who seems out of place is the bank director.  Crumpled in one of the lobby's well-padded leather chairs, his face tells the story; the thieves broke in, robbed him blind, and escaped with the loot before the police could show up in time.  Weaving through the small islands of officers, Wildwing leads his group to the vault.  Not wasting a moment of time, Tanya steps up to the scarred wall and begins her scan.  Less than a minute later, the scan is complete.

"Uh, Wildwing?  Same deal, ionized tachyons."

"What are tachyons?" The bank director asks standing behind the group with Captain Richardson at his side.

"You know, the usual, subatomic particles that move faster than the speed of light."  Tanya replies as if it were common knowledge.  "Of course, your human civilization doesn't, you know, have the technology to harness them yet."

"If _we_ didn't do it, then _who _did?" Richardson asks with a harsh tone to his voice.

"That is what we are hoping to find out." Wildwing interjects.  Turning to the bank director, he continues.  "Do you have any video surveillance from last night?"

"No.  We have a security guard that stays the night.  Only he wasn't here when the police arrived, so we don't know if he is a suspect or not." Bank Director Morton replies.  Looking past Mr. Morton, Wildwing notices a police officer move towards the police captain.

"Captain?" Sergeant Wilson asks.  Once Richardson turns to face his subordinate, Sgt. Wilson gives him his report.  "We got a call from Sergeant Lamery.  They found the missing night watchman battered, tied, and gagged at his house.  After he gets some medical attention, they are going to ask him some questions and get a composite drawing done on the thieves.  I think we can count him out as a suspect, unless his partner smashed his hand and broke his leg to cover their tracks.  Before the ambulance showed up, Lamery found out that one of the thieves dressed in his security uniform while the other beat the security code out of him."

Captain Richardson acknowledges his subordinate's report with a grunt and a nod before turning back to face the ducks.  "When you first got here, you said you wanted to share information with your case down in Anaheim.  What do you have for us since you've seen this crime scene?" Richardson asks.          

Noticing that the small groups of police officers are slowly gravitating towards them, Wildwing speaks up and recounts all the details they've uncovered.  He also informs everyone of the suspected weapon used to crack open the vault.  It didn't take a genius to figure out what his next question was going to be.

"So, where did this weapon come from, and who has it?" Richardson asks with arms folded across his chest.

"When we catch da thieves, then we'll know where dat blaster came from." Duke comments.

"Guess I shouldn't be surprised." One officer pipes up.  "Knew it had to be something special when we couldn't find any gunpowder, explosive, or chemical residue on that door." The officer, apparently their forensics expert, says pointing a thumb at the mangled door smashed into the wall on the far side of the vault.  "Makes sense, though.  If it had been a bomb, this lobby would be nothing but a blast crater."

"Mr. Morton, how much did they take?" Wildwing asks.

With a pained look, he replies, "Eight million in gems."

"… plus four million from Anaheim.  These thieves are getting greedy.  But, they'll slip up and they'll be caught like all thieves because they are overconfident, right Duke?" Mallory asks with a teasing twinkle to her eyes.

Ignoring the stabbing innuendo in her comment about his previous occupation, he merely replies, "That's right, sweetheart."

"Hey, Captain Richardson?" One of the junior officers from the crowd speaks up.  Richardson turns to face the young cop.  "How're the knees doing?"  All the police officers in the lobby bust out laughing.  Richardson's face turns beet-red.

"You think that's funny Samuels?  Let's see if you'll find it funny when I bust you down from investigation to a crossing guard at the elementary school!" No one takes Richardson's threats seriously, which makes it even funnier.  Everyone knew that Richardson was all bark and no bite.  The only thing Richardson cared about was making the next higher rank and stepping on whomever he had to on his way to reach his goal.  For his lack of dedication to his duty, his arrogant and egotistical ways, his subordinates can never truly respect him.

Leaving the bank, the ducks make their way towards the Aerowing.  The morning sunlight has risen above the horizon and stabs at their fatigued eyes and minds.  The bank yielded no clues or evidence as to who is conducting these crimes.  Frustrated and tired, they take off from the bank's parking lot and begin their southbound flight back to Anaheim.

*     *     *     *     *

It is late in the afternoon as Phenious sits at his desk with a smile on his face and his feet propped up.  A few minutes ago, he had received a phone call from Angus, the tall and stout Scotsman.  Posing as a wrong number caller, Angus had asked for Susan, code word for 'success'.  Caught off guard by the unexpected call, Phenious hopes his performance was believable to anyone that may be tapping his office phone.

Had Angus and Liam failed the heist, Angus would've called asking for Frances.   If they aborted, Ada.  A Susan put him into an elated mood.  With hands locked behind his head, he relishes in another successful gem heist. 

_"Eight mil….  I'll only get about six million, but that's alright."_ He thinks to himself.  Phenious isn't worried that Angus won't stick with the deal they agreed on.  He knows he'll return the van, gems, and weapon back to the shed after nightfall.  Shortly thereafter, he'll be there to take over and get the loot into the mafia's laundering network.

_"Mmmm, what to do with the rest of my evening?"_  Checking his watch, he sees that it is 4:08 P.M.  _"Perhaps I should ask my secretary out on a date tonight."_  Leaning back in his chair, he begins to plan his evening.  Feeling lucky after two successful bank robberies, he thinks he's lucky enough for anything.  _"Hmm, maybe a little dinner… perhaps a movie… a few drinks… and then… who knows?"_ He thinks with a devious smirk on his face as he plans of ways to seduce his secretary.  Phenious almost has it all planned out when he hears a strange ringing sound from his desk.  Kicking his feet down to the floor, he sits up and desperately searches for the source of the sound.  Pulling open the bottom left drawer, he pulls out a red rectangular object.

Kicking his feet back up on his desk, he pressed the 'receive' button.  A familiar reptilian image flashes onto the screen.  With a smile, he greets his old employer, Lord Dragaunus.

"Well, look who it is!  How have you been, my lord?  Haven't seen you around in a long time."

"Shut up, you fool!  I have a job for you.  I need you to get the MAMMOTH rocket's engines and bring them to me."

Phenious kicks his feet off the desk as he sits up.  "Bring you rocket engines….  HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?!  How do you know they even survived the explosion?!  You know, ever since I helped you, I've had the FBI so far up my ASS that I can't even take a shit without them knowing about it!  It's to the point that _EV-ERY-DAY_ I have to check to see if my office has been bugged!  And you want ME to bring YOU rocket engines?!  No way!  Forget about it!"  Phenious can see that Dragaunus' eyes had become fiery red even before he finished speaking.  He didn't care.  He knew the lizard was trapped under the ocean and that he couldn't harm him.

"Are you done?  I know for a fact the engines are intact, you worm!  I have detailed coordinates for each of the engines.  All you have to do is move them.  Do this for me, and the Earth will be yours to rule in my absence when I'm off conquering other worlds." Dragaunus bellows.  Smoke begins to seep from his nose as his eyes reflect the blazing fire that burnt within his heart.

After thinking for a few moments about Dragaunus' offer, he finally responds.  "Okay, transmit the coordinates to me." He says, resigning himself into Dragaunus' servitude.  A few moments later, the transfer is complete.

"Now, get to work!  Oh, and one last thing, Phenious.  If you EVER raise your voice at me again, I'll rip your lungs out through your, how did you put it?  Oh yes, your ass.  Do I make myself clear?" He bellows.  Not waiting for Phenious to respond, Dragaunus ends transmission.

Setting the com down on his desk, Phenious sits back in his chair.  With a serious look on his face he begins to weigh his options.

_"Hmmm, ask my secretary out on a date tonight, or stay here and plan for world conquest?  One woman or billions of women?"_  It doesn't take him too long to make his mind up, being that he always sides with grandiose plans.  _"Sorry Tina, poppa's gotta work tonight.  Maybe some other time."_ He thinks to himself with a smirk on his face.  Scooting up to his desk, he opens a drawer and pulls out some paper and pencils.  He knows that he has a busy evening ahead of him as he begins to brainstorm for solutions to his newest problem.

*     *     *     *     *

Standing at a shipyard owned by the Xiang mafia family, Phenious breathes in deeply.  The humid twilight air made the salty, fishy smell of Hong Kong's harbor thicker than what it normally was.  Coating the inside of his nose like a pungent fog, the stench is slightly less than overpowering.  He didn't care, though; he wasn't in China's provincial country for pleasure.  He was there overseeing the final steps of the retrofit to his newest purchase, a fifty-six year-old, World War II T-2 tanker.  Walking along the dock that the ship is moored to, Phenious watches the flurry of activity.

He watches as a group of workers grind spots of rust off the hull and prepping the ship for a new paint job.  Shifting his attention to the group in the main cabin, he watches as they are making final repairs and modifications to the ship's control and navigation systems.  But, what really has his curiosity peaked, isn't the activity happening _above_ the waterline, rather it is the modifications he specified to the hull itself.  Staring down into the oily-dark water, Phenious can see the random bluish spark of a welder's torch.

The cost of the ship was the least expensive item on his shopping list that he gave to his mafia contact in Hong Kong.  The cost of welding the custom hoist platform, complete with a winch on each of the four corners, piece by piece to the underside of the ship, was the most costly and time consuming.  For that alone, Phenious had to allow two month's time to design and then install to the hull.  Before coming out to the shipyard tonight, he had read the progress report on his ship.  He knows the activity that is taking place under the ship is the last minute modifications and installation of his low-depth emergency submarine.

Phenious knows he can never be too cautious.  Living a double life, one of legitimate business transactions, and another of illegal activity, keeps him on his toes.  It is a rule of his to always cover his tracks and to always have contingency plans.  He expects things to go wrong when he attempts to deliver the rockets to Dragaunus.  However, he is doing what he can to limit potential problems and to ensure his personal safety.  With that in mind, he didn't think twice about the thirty-two million dollar price tag for the ship, modifications, and the sub.

He only hopes Dragaunus can successfully install the rocket's engines in the Raptor without his help.  Because, after he drops off the last engine, according to Phenious' plan, he will set his tanker on a westward direction at its maximum speed.  An hour later, the two thousand pounds of high explosives will detonate and rip the submerged hull off the ship and sink into deep water.  Phenious knows it is a deplorable waste of money to destroy his tanker, but he has no choice.  He has no desire to keep the tanker knowing that it'd raise some eyebrows with the FBI.  The last thing he wants them to do is ask questions on why he owns a fifty plus year-old tanker and from where he got it.  Destroy the ship, and he destroys the incriminated evidence.  Thirty-two million is a small price to pay for world power and freedom.

Tomorrow night, the ship will be ready to sail.  Earlier that day, Angus and Liam where trained by the Xiang family on their respective jobs.  Angus would monitor the GPS system and alert the pilot, Phenious, as to what direction they'd have to turn.  Liam would be winch operator.  

"So, Mr. Viper, is everything in order?" Shing Chu, a representative of the mafia family asks in perfect English.

Phenious hadn't heard Mr. Chu approach him from behind.  Not allowing himself to appear startled, Phenious turns to him, "I guess we'll know tomorrow if everything is in order."

Shing was somewhat of a mystery to Phenious; he wasn't at all what he had expected.  Appearing younger than what he actually was, Phenious estimated him to be no more than forty years of age with wisdom well past that.  Following Shing around since his arrival yesterday, Phenious noticed how he carried himself.  Mr. Chu moved with grace and precision; Phenious wouldn't be the least surprised if he learned that Shing was an assassin.  Moreover, Phenious wouldn't be surprised if Xiang family had all their assassins pulling double duty as representatives to escort clients around.  After all, if clients reneged on deals and payments, who better to hunt them down and assassinate them than those that had observed them, those that would have first hand knowledge into a client's mind and be familiar with their idiosyncrasies.  

"Xiang family will ensure everything meets with your approval.  If you'd permit me, we wish to show their gratitude for your business transaction." Shing says motioning for the waiting car to approach.

"Certainly." Phenious agrees as the car door opens, allowing them to step inside.  Since Phenious has been in Hong Kong, he has been treated better than royalty.  He imagines tonight will be no different than any other moment under the care of Shing Chu.

*     *     *     *     *

Phenious loves Hong Kong.  He almost hated to leave, but he has a job to do.  Piloting the Freed Dragon out of Hong Kong's harbor, he sets the ship's bearing to Angus' guidance.  They'll arrive at Anaheim in just under a month; plenty of time for him to dwell on last night's events.

With a smile on his face, he recalls the places Shing took him.  Beginning with the bathhouse, he never knew women that attractive existed outside of a magazine.  After tending to his needs, he was escorted to another room for a massage.  There, he was allowed to indulge in any desire he could ever want.  No conduct was off-limits, and every want was taken care of.

Once done at the massage parlor, he was taken to the finest seafood restaurant Xiang family had to offer.  Nothing on the menu was out of the question; he was the mafia's guest.  Checking the menu, his eyes had fallen upon a Japanese dish, Tora Fugu, the most deadly of the blowfish cuisine.  It was deadly if not done correctly, but delectable if skillfully prepared.  Phenious didn't have second thoughts about ordering the potentially life-threatening entree.  To him it only made sense to order such a dish.  With a last name of Viper, a poisonous serpent, he lived on the fine line between the mediocrity of life and the absoluteness of death.

After the exquisite meal, Shing took Phenious to a social event in the upscale portion of Hong Kong.  There he made the acquaintance of several other people of similar backgrounds as he.  Topping off the evening, Shing Chu brought Phenious back to his penthouse apartment.  Before retiring for the evening, Phenious had to make a decision.  Choose between sleeping alone or with any number of the possible candidates before him.  His decision was obvious as he picked the tallest and biggest breasted one from the group.  Bidding Mr. Chu a goodnight, Phenious and his 'guest' disappeared into the darkened apartment.

Cleared from the harbor, Phenious increases speed on his tanker, vowing to return to Hong Kong again the next time he requires Xiang family's help.  Looking around the cabin, he notices Angus and Liam milling around aimlessly.  He imagines he'll be bored like them after while.  After all, it's going to be a long, long voyage across the Pacific Ocean.

*     *     *     *     *

Following the directions of Angus, Phenious slowly guilds the Freed Dragon over the first rocket engine.  Aside from Liam, twenty-eight days is the longest any of them have ever been confined to any one structure.  Sure, Liam is as bored as Phenious and Angus, but being locked away in a British prison for his involvement in the IRA was far worse than being stuck on a tanker.

"Okay… there, lad!" Angus' voice booms in a deep Scottish brogue with eyes glued to the GPS system.  Momentarily reversing the tanker's propellers, Phenious stops the massive ship at the exact coordinates specified.  As soon as Phenious and Angus double check their instruments, Liam gets the nod to begin his job.  Setting the four winches into motion, he begins the long process of lowering the cables 450 feet down.  Once the cables have reached the bottom, they can do nothing but sit and wait.

Waiting.  Phenious didn't know why something as simple as sitting in a chair could be so difficult.  Getting up, he paces the ancient bridge of his tanker.  Getting bored with pacing, he'd sit back down in his chair, only to stand up a few minutes later and pace once more.  Staring at his communicator, Phenious waits to see a green circle in the upper left hand corner of his screen.  Right now a red square is displayed indicating the drones were still working on connecting the rocket.  

_"Come on you pieces of junk!  HURRY UP!"_ Phenious thinks to himself squeezing his hand into a tight fist.  Opening his fist once more, he sits at his chair and begins tapping his fingers on the armrest.  Hearing a noise from his com, he watches as the red square disappears and a green circle illuminates.  _"Finally!"_

"Bring it up, Liam!"

Twenty-two minutes after Liam had lowered the cables, Dragaunus' modified, watertight drones have connected the cables to the first rocket engine.  Once the slack is taken up, Liam increases the power to the winches, which causes the whole ship to shutter as it strains to free the engine from the silt-lined ocean floor.  Moments later, the shuttering subsides as the winches finally uproot the engine.

"Ahhh, gest like pullin' teeth, eh Angus?" Liam expresses with a toothy grin on his face.  A lock of his dark hair had fallen down into his face, not that he cared.  He was too busy monitoring the winches to notice.  Being of medium height and of a stocky build, the most striking feature about him is his thick, strong jaw.  Coming from the streets of Ireland, he quickly gained a reputation as a tough street brawler with a penchant towards explosives and torture; skills that were highly desirable by the IRA.

"Ah wouldn't know, lad.  Pullin' teeth is yer department.  Ah just steal stuff." The six foot four Scotsman says.  With his long hair in a low ponytail, Angus is proud of his ancestral roots as the clasp that holds his orange-red hair together is painted in his clan's colors of blue and green plaid.

Being well read and intellectual, it was surprising when Angus decided on thievery as his profession.  After being disowned by his family when he was a teenager, he drifted around Scotland for a few years doing odd jobs.  Moving south to England, he looked for work, not that there was any to be found.  One afternoon, while sleeping in a condemned building on the outskirts of London, a group of bank robbers broke into his so-called home.  Frustrated with trying to find a descent job just to make an honest living, he consciously made the decision to join the group of thieves to follow a life of crime.

Fourteen years later, it has been a choice that he hasn't regretted.  Good fortune and skillful preparation has kept him out of prison more times than he cared to count.  After many of the original thieves have been either arrested or killed, Angus decided eight years ago to leave the British Isles for the time being and relocate to America.  

Living in Boston, it was by sheer luck he came across Liam.  If he hadn't been enjoying a pint of Guinness at the local Irish pub, he knew the drunken Liam would've wound up shot by the police as he attempted to rob the pub.  Feeling sorry for the immigrant fresh out of prison, he took Liam in and trained him in the ways of thievery, just as his original gang had done for him.

Eight and a half minutes after the winches freed the first rocket, he turns to his fellow shipmates.  "Oi!  The rocket's up!"

Waking up from his pretended nap, Phenious growls at Angus.  "What's the bearing to the drop-off point?"

Being a professional, Angus didn't have to hurry and plot the course needed.  He had already done it while waiting on the rocket.  He merely responded with, "Bearing one-oh-seven, thirteen point seven nautical miles, lad."

Slowly advancing the throttle on his tanker, Captain Phenious turns the heavy ship to the indicated magnetic direction.  Topping out at eleven knots, Phenious knows it'll take over an hour just to arrive at Dragaunus' location.  Groaning, he stands up from his chair and walks out of the cabin and into the nighttime air.

Breathing in deeply, he gladly purges his lungs from the lingering scent of wet paint.  He knows this is the most dangerous, make-or-break phase of the operation – however, he didn't mind.  It is the waiting that he cared about.  He hated waiting.  Looking at his watch, he notices it is 1:30 A.M.  Four hours until sunrise.  Quickly doing the math in his head, he figures he'll just barely have the time to do two rockets tonight.

_"I don't care if that lizard gets mad that I'm only moving two rockets tonight.  I'm **not** going to be spotted out here in the daylight doing this crap.  And I'm certainly **not** going to go to jail for him!"_ He thinks to himself.  Tightening his hands on the railing, he continues, _"No way in hell!"_

*     *     *     *     *

Resting his head on the chair's headrest, Phenious' burning eyes are closed.  Fatigue begins to weigh heavily on him as he listens attentively and awaits Angus' command.  After delivering the first rocket without a problem, the crew of the Freed Dragon has recovered the second engine and is moving into position to lower it to the Raptor.  Opening his eyes, he rolls his head to the left and gazes out the window; the morning sun begins to lick the eastern sky.

"All night….  All friggin' night….  I hope those damn drones hurry the hell up this time.  I'm _way_ too tired for games…." Phenious groans only loud enough for him to hear.

"Okay, lad… there!" Angus bellows.  Just as before, Phenious reverses the ship's throttles, stopping the heavy ship as indicated.  Liam doesn't wait for the thumbs up from his boss.  Setting the winches in motion, he begins the process of lowering the second rocket down 320 feet.  Five minutes later, the rocket is resting on the sandy ocean floor.

Phenious doesn't bother to pick up his com just yet.  He knows it'll be at least ten minutes before the drones finish disconnecting the steel cables from the engine.  Phenious knows that once that piece of the MAMMOTH's wreckage is unhooked, Wraith will move the rocket into place within the Raptor using his levitation abilities.

Of course, Phenious has no desire to linger at the crash site longer than is required.  Once he gets the green circle, he'll have Liam pull the cables up, as he sets the tanker towards Anaheim's docks for the day.  All he has to do now is just wait.  After being at sea for almost a month, Phenious finds that these last few minutes are perhaps the toughest.  He is close.  So close to completing his mission for Dragaunus.  All he has to do is wait.  Standing up from his chair, he walks his tired body to the windows facing the eastern sky.  He stares at the light pink horizon for a moment before the dry, sandpaper-like eyes beg for mercy.  Closing them, he massages his orbs with thumb and forefinger.  With his eyes closed and his head dipped down, he can feel the sun begin to warm his face.

Hearing a beeping coming the com in his left hand, he opens his eyes as he brings the device into his view.

A green circle is present.

Turning from the window, he speaks while looking at Liam.  "Alright.  Bring 'em up.  Let's get the hell outta here…." Phenious almost whispers.  With a nod, Liam throws a lever and begins to bring the cables back up.  Back at the helm, Phenious whips the throttle to the 'Full' position.  Falling into his chair, Phenious speaks again.  "Angus?  Bearing, please."

"Eight-zero, four point five nautical miles." The orange-red haired giant says stifling a yawn.

Turning the ship to the magnetic azimuth Angus directed, Phenious pilots the ship towards Anaheim's ports.  Even though they all have beds on board the Freed Dragon, once they dock and are finished off-loading their crude oil cargo, Liam and Angus are going their separate ways.  They've earned their shore leave after being at sea for almost a month. He doesn't have to worry about Liam and Angus getting into trouble at a bar.  He knows they'll go right to sleep and be back at the docks at six P.M. to finish their rocket delivery task.

Phenious, however, will remain onboard to double-check the scuttling explosives that line his ship.  Even Liam and Angus don't know Phenious' true plans.  Depending on the outcome of the operation, they'll either become a liability or an asset.  Therefore, Phenious hasn't told them about the submarine beneath the tanker that can accommodate two extra people, nor has he told them about the two extra wetsuits.  Following his motto, Phenious hopes for the best, but plans for the worst.

Yawning, Phenious knows it will all be over in twenty-four hours.  He can't wait.

*     *     *     *     *

Standing on the deck overlooking the dock, Phenious watches as his two crewmembers board the tanker.  The dockworkers had finished off-loading the 50,000 barrels of crude oil from the hold hours ago; Phenious' cover as a fledgling entrepreneur is secure.  The oil that he had bought, along with the official registry documentation arranged by the Xiang family, didn't raise any eyebrows with the port officials.  For obvious reasons, he is pleased.  Now that his crew of two is back on board, they can follow their departure schedule and leave within the hour.

Walking back onto the bridge, Phenious prepares the tanker for departure.  Minutes later, once the Freed Dragon is ready, the dock crew releases its moorings.  Setting the winches in motion, one fore and one aft, Liam and Angus retract the thick ropes used to hold the boat to the dock.  On the opposite side of the ship, a tugboat pulls the tanker from the docks and into open water.  Releasing its moorings, Liam and Angus set the large winches into motion, bringing the other set of thick ropes back onboard.  Once cleared by port control, Phenious backs the tanker out of the harbor.  As soon as he has ample room to maneuver, he turns the heavy ship towards Angus' bearing.  It'll take an hour and a half to return to the MAMMOTH's crash site, which is fine with Phenious, as the sun will be setting at that time.

*     *     *     *     *

"Phenious, I donah know how much more these winches can take.  Ah had problems with that last one." Liam says walking up to his boss.

Turning in his captain's chair, Phenious faces the Irishman before responding, "We only have one more to do.  Just do your best…."

"Just do my best… aye.  _Ya shoulda bought better hardware before startin' this operation…._" Liam mutters to himself as he returns back to his station.  The only person who heard him gripping was Angus.  All Angus could do was softly chuckle at how Liam allowed himself to get stressed out on things that were out of his control.

Angus, however, didn't let the little things get to him.  All he cared about was getting paid and going home in one piece.  If the operation failed because of faulty equipment, it wasn't on him.  It was on Phenious.  He only worked with the tools his employer provided him with.

Once the Freed Dragon is back into position at the MAMMOTH site, Liam sets the winches into motion for the last rocket.  Silently he hopes the winches will hold together long enough.  Sitting at his station is almost unbearable.  Closing his eyes, he tries his best to remain calm and still, but the anxiety is getting to him.  He wishes those drones would hurry up and connect the cables to the rocket.  

They've been salvaging all night, and with only an hour and a half of darkness left, Liam wants to hurry up and be done before they are spotted from the coast.  Closing his eyes, he rests his head on the seat's headrest.  Even though he got plenty of sleep last night, he still felt weary when he awoke.  Allowing his mind to wander, he remembers what Angus told him when he came to get him for breakfast.

_"Eh, maybe yah just need some Guinness in ya, lad?  Ya haven't had some for what, a month?"_

_"Aye.  After this I'll be goin' back to Dublin ta get rat-arsed on tha good Guinness.  Not this watered-down American swill!  Ya wanna come?"_

_"Perhaps, lad.  Ah'm jeist hopin' tha bobbies won't be lookin' for me ugly mug there at Heathrow." Angus says.  He knows he is a wanted man in England for the numerous robberies he and his gang committed.  But, he figures he'd be safe.  After all, that was seven years ago and they'd only be in England until they could get a connecting flight to Dublin.  Truth be told, he does miss his homeland, and he would like to see it one more time._

He doesn't have to wait too long when he gets the command from Phenious to bring the last of the five engines up.  Sitting up in his chair, Liam cracks his knuckles.  Slowly taking the slack out of the 450 foot long steel cables, he is ready.  Gradually increasing power to the winches, he can hear the faint sound of the straining machinery resonating through the ship's hull.  He can only imagine how noisy it is underwater.

Watching the depth dial on the cables, he sees the needle bounce rapidly at 450 feet.  Moments later, he hears the faint noise subside as the needle begins to gradually sweep past 450 feet and continue on through 440.  He knows the engine is free and is steady getting closer, but a nagging thought speaks up in his mind.

_"Yeah, it's movin' alright.  But when is it gonna crap out again?"_

He holds his breath as he watches the needle slip past the three hundred-foot mark.  Thinking he is in the clear, he releases a sigh.  A moment later, the winches seize up.

"Ah bloody hell!" Liam shouts.  Throwing the lever controlling the winches, he stops their upward movement.  Checking the needle, he sees they are at the 255-foot mark.  Reversing the winch's direction, he tries to clear the jam.  Throwing the lever to bring the rocket up, the winches protest again.  Lowering the rocket even further, he tries one last time to haul them up.  Still, no luck as the winches grind metal on metal.

"Shite!" The frustrated Liam shouts at his control panel.  Looking at the depth gauge, he shakes his head in irritation.  "That's all those bloody winches got left in 'em.  Feck!  They're 284 feet down, Phenious!"

"I guess we'll just have to be more careful than usual, won't we?  We'll just have to sail slower." Phenious states.  He doesn't bother to ask Angus for the bearing and distance to the Raptor; he already has it memorized.  Setting the throttle to only six knots, Phenious knows it'll take twice as long to get to the Raptor, but he doesn't have a choice.  He didn't want to run the risk of damaging the rocket or cables.

Phenious knew a lot about committing crimes and running an electronic component business, but one thing he didn't know was the effect millions of gallons of water had on steel cables suspending a rocket engine almost three hundred feet under the ocean's surface.  He figures caution is the wiser course of action.

*     *     *     *     *

Manning the sonar station on-board the USS Bozeman, a Los Angeles-class nuclear attack submarine, Seaman Rodriguez's brow scrunches.  The sounds he is hearing through his headphones have him puzzled.  Not on **_what_** he was hearing, but **_why_** he was hearing them.  

"Chief?  Could you come over here for a moment?" Seaman Rodriguez says turning towards his boss, Chief Petty Officer Roman.  Once Roman is close enough, he hands him his headphones.  "This is coming from a ship off the coast of Anaheim." He listens to the sounds uninterested for a few moments before returning the headphones to Rodriquez.

"So?  Probably just a ship back at the harbor with mechanical problems or maybe its a salvage operation.  It really could be anything.  But, that isn't our concern.  What IS our concern is out there." Chief Roman says shooting a thumb towards the open ocean.

"I really think we should radio the Coast Guard.  Have them check it out.  I've heard the same sounds the night before in two different locations and now the same thing tonight.  What kind of salvage operation do you know of that _only_ takes place at night?" Seaman Rodriquez says.  Chief Roman was about to retort when he throws his hands up in frustration.

"Fine.  If it'll shut you up.  Rachoski, radio those coordinates to the Coast Guard.  If anything, it'll give those Navy wash-outs something to do…." Chief Roman says to the radio operator seated next Seaman Rodriquez.

*     *     *     *     *

The sun has already crested the horizon when the Freed Dragon finally gets into position.  Looking towards Phenious, Liam squints his eyes as the sunlight cascades through the front windows.  It is an unsettling sight as he has been accustomed to seeing nothing but darkness all night long.  Once he sees Phenious return the throttle to the 'stop' position, he sets the winches into motion and lowers the last engine down to the waiting drones.  Fortunately, for them, they don't have to wait too long.

_"Finally, the last engine."_ Liam thinks to himself as he sits back in his chair, taking a break from his control panel.  Yawning, all he has to do now is just wait for the drones to get done.

Feeling his eyes grow heavy, he fights the temptation to fall asleep.  Standing up, he makes his way past Phenious and moves towards the cabin's steel door.  Stepping outside and onto the walkway, a cool salty sea breeze caresses his tired face.  His thick, black hair is oily and disheveled from the long night awake at his station.  Moving a few haphazard strands of hair out of his face, he notices a ship off in the distance and quickly disregards it.

Resting his weight on the railing in front of him, he turns his attention to the murky water surrounding the ship.  He wonders what it is like to be 320 feet below the surface.  He imagines it to be dark, cold, and have enough pressure to crush his lungs.  He definitely didn't envy being down there.  Turning his attention away from the water, he closes his eyes as the warm sensation of the sun beats down on his face.

When Angus and Liam both agreed to this salvage operation, they knew who was receiving the rockets.  They were also fully aware that if Dragaunus succeeds in getting the engines to work, he'd return and try to conquer the world again.  Liam and Angus might be considered traitors to humanity, but they don't care.  The only thing that concerns them is the bottom line - getting paid.  After all, to a mercenary, a job's a job.

Not allowing himself to get to comfortable, he opens his eyes and rights himself up.  Looking away from the dark ocean, he sees the distant ship once more.  It is noticeably closer and appears to be heading directly towards them.  Turning back towards the cabin, he steps through the open door and walks up to Phenious.

"Appears we might have a spot of company coming.  Can't see who they are, but they look ta be movin' towards us." Liam comments.

Nodding Phenious says, "Never mind them, those drones should be done soon.  Just get ready to pull those cables up."  Phenious isn't worried.  He's already planned for trouble if it should come looking for him.

Returning to his station, Liam sits and waits.  Staring at his control panel, the tedium of waiting begins to get to him.  It takes all the self-control he has to remain in his chair instead of pacing.  Eight long minutes later, a voice booms through the open cabin door.

"Ahoy!  Captain of the Freed Dragon!"

Phenious was expecting this.  He figured if they stayed out long enough on this salvage operation during the day, sooner or later, someone would come to investigate.  Whether or not they suspect something is another issue.  Seeing an almost sixty-year-old tanker parked a few miles off shore is enough to make anyone curious.

Turning to Angus, Phenious speaks, "Go see what they want.  If they ask, tell them we are making repairs and will be underway shortly."  Phenious, for obvious reasons, can't personally talk to the Coast Guard.  He knows it is standard operating procedure for them to video record all interdictions.  The last thing he wants is video evidence linking him to this ship and his dealings with Dragaunus, providing they figure out the true nature of this tanker.  Watching the tall Scot walk past him, he sits back, relaxes, and patiently waits.

Listening to the booming voice from the amplified speakers of the other ship, Phenious doesn't have to wait for Angus to return to know that he was right - the anonymous voice confirms his suspicion.  Turning his head, Phenious watches as Angus replies just as instructed with an added friendly wave.  Diverting his attention away from the tall Scotsman, Phenious looks down at his com as it chimes.

Seeing that the green circle is illuminated, he calls out to the Irishman, "Okay, Liam, bring 'em up." Relief sweeps over him as this operation is finally drawing to an end.  All Phenious has to do now is get rid of the evidence and he is home free.  Once the Coast Guard sees that the tanker is underway, he knows they'll leave them alone.

Walking over to Angus' map station, he sees that the Scotsman has already plotted their next destination – an eight thousand-foot-deep trench twenty-two miles off the coast of California.  Phenious decided on this location for a very good reason.  In the off chance someone saw the explosion that scuttled his ship, he knows it would be exceedingly difficult to locate.  Furthermore, Phenious knows the chance of an investigation would be next to none as it is merely an old tanker versus a historically significant ship such as the Titanic.

Joining Phenious' side, Angus is about to speak when Liam's frustrated swearing catches their attention.  "Feck!  grumbling to himself… bloody stupid… more grumbling… cables!!  They're stuck at two hundred bloody feet, Phenious!  I hate this stupid piece of crap!" Liam shouts as he stands up, repeatedly kicking the console.

Walking to the helm, Phenious throws the throttle to Full Forward and turns the tanker to a westerly direction towards the trench.  Nineteen nautical miles at eleven knots will put him at his scuttling target in an hour and a half.

"Don't worry about the cables.  We'll be fine."

"An then what, lad?  Ye haven't really said how where getting' off dis boat." Angus pipes up.

Before Phenious could respond, the anonymous voice once again intrudes into the tanker's cabin.

*     *     *     *     *

"Sir!  I think you need to listen to this." The sonar operation onboard the 110 foot, Coast Guard cutter USCGC Nez Perce says to her captain.  Flipping a switch, she transfers the sound from her headphones to a single speaker mounted over her station.  The nail-biting sound of metal grinding on metal is obvious to her.  To her captain, it doesn't mean anything.

"They said they were having mechanical problems.  That is what you're hearing." Captain Jefferys is down in the darkened communication section of his ship.  Located directly under the bridge of his ship, he left the XO, the second-in-command of his ship, in charge and to notify him when the tanker was underway.

Seaman Maria Tankens knows her job better than her egotistical captain does.  Not allowing him to believe that he is right, she continues to push her point.  "Sir, I _know_ what I'm hearing and it isn't simple _mechanical_ problems." Maria can feel her red-haired personality threatening to explode.  "It sounds more like grinding metal… like a crane… or a winch.  I know it isn't their propeller because I hear it freely spinning." She says turning the volume up on the speaker.  The slow and rhythmic _thump-thump-thump _of the propeller blades rotating could unmistakably be heard when the grinding metal sound had subsided.

"Okay, then what are they _salvaging_?" Captain Jefferys says condescendingly.  Flipping a few switches, Seaman Tankens hits the 'ping' button on her console.  A pinging sound explodes from the speaker followed by another, more faint, return ping.  Looking at her sonar scope, she points her finger at the green phosphorescent, blurry image of the Raptor.

"That."

"Sir?  The Freed Dragon is moving again." The second-in-command officer shouts down the stairs to his captain.  Not bothering to reply to the XO, Captain Jefferys leans forward and rests his palms on her desk to stare at the image.

"Look in the database.  Find out what sunk here." He asks of Seaman Tankens as he continues to analyze the blurry image.

Maria's fingers nimbly fly over the keys of her keyboard as she inputs their coordinates.  Seconds later, she has her answer.

"Sir, you're not going to believe this…." She says turning to face him with her finger pointing at her computer screen.

*     *     *     *     *

"… I repeat!  Shut down your engines and prepare to be boarded!" The voice continues to assault the Freed Dragon's crew.

"Angus?  Would you please silence our noisy pest?" Phenious says with an irritated look on his face.  Angus knows without a doubt what he wanted him to do.  With a nod, Angus moves to the Clawworld blaster's storage locker mounted in the corner of the cabin.  Picking up the EP-3, he makes sure the alien artifact is firmly attached to the end of the barrel.  Flicking a switch, the blaster emits its characteristic medium-pitched tone as it begins to warm up.  Walking towards the open cabin door, he notices the blaster is emitting its high-pitched hum – the weapon is ready to fire.

Walking out the cabin and into the brisk sea air, he keeps the weapon hidden behind his large frame.  Looking down at the pursuing Coast Guard vessel, two kneeling marines with rifles greet him.  Less than a hundred feet away, he knows he is an easy target for the two trained soldiers.  He knows he must move swiftly if he wants to survive.

Swinging the blaster up, he takes aim at the bow and quickly pulls the trigger.  The instant the purple bolt erupts from the Clawword blaster, the soldiers shoot.  One bullet narrowly misses him; the other hits him squarely in his right shoulder.  His hand instantly goes numb, causing him to drop the blaster.  Angus watches in horror as the blaster falls away from him and splashes into the ocean.  His eyes flick towards the Coast Guard cutter and sees that his shot had hit its mark as a good-sized chunk of the bow is missing.  Clutching his shoulder, he staggers back into the cabin knowing the Coast Guard ship will be sunk in a few minutes.

Seeing his wounded friend, Liam rushes to Angus' side with the first-aid kit.  Phenious, however, is less than concerned with his welfare.

"Where's the blaster?!"

"Ah lost me grip on it.  Ah dropped it into the ocean, lad." the Scotsman replies.

"YOU IDIOT!!  Do you realize the artifact on the end of that blaster was a one-of-a-kind?!  How could you JUST DROP IT?" Phenious shouts as his chest heaves with each rage-enriched breath.

"It's not like ah had a choice, lad!  Ah couldnah control mah hand." Angus retorts as Liam guides him to a chair.  Liam reaches down into the inner side of his left boot with his right hand and pulls out his back-up knife.  He had learned years ago from first-hand experience never to be without some sort of weapon to protect one's self.  This is the first time he's used this knife to help someone with first aid instead of helping him get out of a sticky mess.

"Alright.  Jeist sits still, Angus.  I don' wont ta cut'cha." He says as he slices open the already blood soaked fabric to his shirt.  Once the sleeve of his shirt is cut open and removed, Liam sees the full extent of his injury.  Grabbing the first-aid kit, he opens packages of sterile gauzes and begins to stuff as much as he can into the gapping holes in Angus' shoulder.  Issuing painful gasps, Angus does all he can to sit still and not scream in protest.

"Ah have no idea how badly he's injured, Phenious.  We need ta get him ta da hospital or something as soon as possible." Liam says not looking at Phenious, as he is too busy trying to stop his friend's bleeding.  He knows a first-aid provider should be confident and sound in control so as not to worry the injured, but right now tactfully wording Angus' condition is far from his mind.

"Patch him up the best you can.  I'll try to get us there." Phenious says as his mind begins to whirl with trying to solve this new problem.  He already had a good plan before they even started this salvage operation, but now, Angus' injury changes everything.  He knows he can't take the Scotsman to a hospital.  A gunshot would raise too many questions, and the police would definitely get involved.  Phenious certainly didn't have any contacts with the local organized crime bosses that had access to private surgeons.  The solution was simple, even though he chose to ignore it until he saw no other alternative.

"And how do ye suppose you'll be getting us der, lad?" Angus' gaze is as hard as granite.  Phenious has been dodging giving them a straight answer ever since they started this salvage operation.  Now, he has to tell them.

Looking Angus straight in the eye, he answers, "I have a seaplane standing-by to pick us up.  But, that wasn't supposed to happen until we got to the scuttling site.  I'll need to contact them and have them come sooner than planned."  

"An' how do ye suppose I'd be gettin' medical attention?  Yu know an' ah know we can't jeist waltz in ta tha hospital an' say, 'Here ah am!  Please fix me on up an' don' ask any questions!'

"I have connections with a local mob boss that has private surgeons.  _Trust me_, you'll be fixed up." Phenious says boldly.  Changing his tone from matter-of-factly to one of sarcasm, he pulls out his communicator and continues, "Now, do you have any other questions?  Would you like extra cheese on your pepperoni pizza while I'm at it?  Maybe some Haggis, too?  If you don't mind, I'd like to go make a few calls to get things set up, okay?"

Turning from his mercenary employees, Phenious steps out of the cabin and into the salty ocean air.  Walking away from the cabin, he pretends to contact the seaplane pilot to demand an immediate pickup.  Arguing with the blank com screen, Phenious has to maintain his lie.  He is confident that Liam and Angus don't suspect his deceit.  He has made it a common business practice to be able to look another person in the eye and be able to lie about whatever he needed to.

A few minutes later, Phenious returns to the cabin and sees that Angus' shoulder is encased in white bandaging gauze.  Liam pulls the once-full-of-morphine syringe out of Angus' right arm and presses a white, sterile gauze over his bulging vein.  "So?  What did he say?  When are we gettin' out of here?"

"The pilot will be taking off shortly and will arrive in about ten to fifteen minutes.  Until then, we'll remain on this course and speed.  Only when the seaplane lands will we disembark and remotely scuttle the ship with this." He says as he pulls a remote out from his jacket.  The device itself is a bland, black box that is complete with an extendable antenna, red safety cover over a concealed toggle switch, and a non-illuminated button marked 'ARMED'.  Tossing it into his chair behind the helm, he turns and makes his way towards the stairway that'll lead him deeper into the bowels of the ship.  "I'm going to the head." He grumbles as he walks past the hired help.

Once Liam is sure Phenious is out of hearing range, he whispers, "I don' trust that Phenious, Angus.  He's up ta something; ah can smell it."

Angus hears his friend and understands what he just said, but right now, he is too doped up on morphine to care about anything.  All he can do is rest his heavy head on the headrest and smile; pain is the furthest thing from his mind.

*     *     *     *     *

At the base of the stairs, Phenious looks up dark stairway towards the bridge.  Seeing that no one is watching him, he quickly and silently opens an adjacent bulkhead door revealing another staircase that leads deeper towards his intended destination - the engineering level.  Stepping though the hatch, he pulls the door close behind him; however, he makes sure he didn't lock and seal the door.  He wants to, after all, sink his ship as quickly as possible and the more compartments he has sealed, the longer it'd take.  He knows that when water rushed up this staircase, it'd blow this door open and quickly fill the living areas with cold salt water further sealing the Freed Dragon's sinking fate.

Arriving on the lower level of the ship, Phenious quickly unlocks the bulkhead door and pushes it open.  After he latches the door into the open position, he races down the catacomb-like aisle, punctuated by a blood-red light bulb every few feet.  Making his way towards the engineering section at the rear of the ship, Phenious is glad that during the month at sea, he has been able to spend numerous hours exploring parts to this ship.  Therefore, he felt at ease as he charges through section after section of his ship without the paranoid fear that a creature of his imagination would jump out of the darkness and gobble him up.

Finally arriving at the last staircase in the ship, he quickly pounds down the steel-mesh stairs and opens the sealed bulkhead door.  Like all the other bulkhead doors, he likewise locks this door into an open position and looks around the room to get his orientation.  Illuminated in the same red glow as the rest of the ship, Phenious can see the Freed Dragon's massive engine as it occupies the center of the cavernous room.  Ignoring the roar of the diesel power plant, he quickly runs to the master arm circuit panel – for obvious reasons, this is a feature never revealed to Liam and Angus.  Flipping a secret switch behind the wall-mounted and disguised panel, small red lights illuminate the walls of the engine room.

To the unknowing observer, it would look like another set of already over-utilized red-colored bulbs.  To Phenious, however, this means that all two thousand pounds of his plastic explosives are armed and ready to be detonated by a delay timer.  Turning from the master arm panel, he runs to the secret compartment that holds their scuba gear - each pounding step noisily reverberates off the steel meshing of the elevated deck.  Making his way to the wetsuits and oxygen tanks he has hidden away, he carefully pulls out only his gear and quickly double checks to make sure everything is good to go.

He first checks his oxygen tank; it still shows to be full.  His back-up remote detonator – still safely sealed in its airtight bag.  The last item in his inventory – two blocks of C4 plastic explosive complete with blasting caps and fuse.  Quickly slipping his diving gear on minus the swim fins, he is ready to go in a matter of minutes.  With his shoes still on his feet, he runs back to the master arm panel and presses a hidden button directly below the arming switch.  Instantly, the diesel engine reacts.  As if someone had commanded 'All Stop', the power plant revs down to idle, and in a matter of seconds, the Freed Dragon is dead in the water.

Even before the ship had completely idled down and stopped, Phenious had already exited the engine room and was climbing the stairs up a level.  Arriving at the top of the stairs, Phenious turns and continues to move towards the rear of the ship until he arrives at a spot he marked earlier while docked at Hong Kong.

_"Heh heh, 'X' marks the spot."_ Phenious thinks to himself with a smile stretched across his face.  Sticking the two bricks of explosive material to the inner hull directly over his two tape marks, he quickly lights the main fuse.  Once he sees the fuse ignite, he runs back the way he just came.  As quickly as possible, he pounds down the stairs leading into the engine room and swiftly slams the door behind him and locks it.  Even though shutting and locking the engine-room door might be considered overly cautious, he had no desire to be in the path of that explosion's concussion.  Outside and in the open air, one didn't have to go through elaborate measures to seek protection from two C4 bricks exploding.  However, in the bottled confines of this old World War 2 tanker, the concussion would be lethal to anyone in the hallways as the pressure, noise, and heat would focus the highly explosive material.  Bracing himself, he knows in a few seconds, it'll be rather noisy on his ship.

*     *     *     *     *

Pacing back and forth, Liam is grumbling to himself.  Stopping for a moment, he looks at his watch.  Phenious has been gone for ten minutes, and from what he told them, the pilot should be arriving any minute.

"Angus.   Angus!  Stay awake, man!  He's been gone for quite a while to be at jeist tha head….  Ah think he's up to somethin'."

"Would ya jeist relax, lad.  He's not up ta anything; it's jeist yer mind playin' tricks on ya." Angus replies with a goofy smile on his face.  It was obvious the morphine injection had his mind stuck in neutral.

"Ah can' relax.  Not until that snake comes back….  Angus… we're slowin' down… something's up; ah jeist know it.  Ah _really_ think he's up to something…."

"Ye already said that, lad." Angus says sleepily.

"Ah know….  Ah think he's tryin' ta screw us."

"Nah.  What makes ye think that?  After all, he left his little black box thingy there." Angus says motioning drunkenly with his left hand towards Phenious' chair.  "'sides, we're all waitin' fer the seaplane.  Where's he gonna go, eh?"

Angus no sooner finished uttering his words when an explosion filled their ears and caused the steel deck to tremble.  Liam turns his head to the staircase that leads deeper into the ship.  He has a gut feeling that he is right in suspecting a double-cross.

"Shite!" Liam shouts as he bounds down the stairs and starts to look for Phenious.  Minutes later, he returns to Angus and reports his findings.  "Ah can' find 'em!  He isn't in ta head.  Have ye seen a seaplane?"

"No." Angus responds thickly.  Through the sedated haze that restrains his mind, Angus is beginning to think his friend might be right.

Walking towards Phenious' chair, he feels the Freed Dragon shift under his feet.  It takes a second for him to realize it, but they are moving forward once more.  Picking up the detonator, he shoves it in his jacket pocket.

He's had enough of Phenious' games.

If need be, he will pilot the tanker back to Anaheim, but one way or another, he won't let that serpent put one over on him.  Grabbing the wheel, he spins it to the right.  No course change.  Spinning it to the left, again, no change.

"Shite!  Angus, we've been set up!  Ah betcha that bastard plans ta sink this ship with us on it!" Liam's eyes burn of rage, as the truth can no longer be denied.  "Come on, man!  We gotta do something!"

Standing up, Angus holds onto his chair with is left hand.  The color instantly fades from his face as all the blood rushes out of this head and towards his abdomen.  Tightening his abs, he tries to force the blood back into his brain and to keep his peripheral vision from darkening anymore than it already has.  Fighting back the urge to vomit, Angus' head spins.  Swaying, he tries to speak using a tongue that feels laden with an unseen weight.  "Sure… lad… what do ye… want me… ta do?"

Liam is already moving towards his friend when darkness claims Angus' vision.  Catching the heavy Scotsman before he could hit the deck, he carefully lays him down on his back and elevates his feet on the chair Angus was just sitting in.  Feeling for a pulse, he is relieved to find one, even if it is beating very rapidly.  Likewise, Angus' breathing is quick and shallow.  Liam knows his friend has lost a lot of blood, and now Angus is going into shock.  Silently cursing to himself for his stupidity of not doing this sooner, he begins to loosen restrictive parts to the Scotsman's clothing.  Every second that Angus is away from medical attention means that he is a second closer to dying.

"Hang in there, Angus.  Ah'm here.  We'll getcha some medical help soon…." Liam says even though it's a blatant lie.  He can't think of anything else to say at that particular moment.  All he can think about is killing Phenious for double-crossing them.

*     *     *     *     *

Running back up the stairs, Phenious turns and sees the twisted metal carnage two bricks of C4 had caused.  Through the lingering smoke that hovers in the hallway, he sees sunlight stream in through the hull.  With a smile of satisfaction, he holds his breath as he rushes through the shroud of explosive haze.  Quickly arriving at the gapping hole in the quarter-inch thick steel hull, Phenious double checks to make sure he has his remote control, swim fins, and that his diving tank is flowing oxygen.  Satisfied that all is in order, he holds his mask firmly to his face as he hops through the seven-foot hole and falls a few feet into the ocean.

Hitting the water, he quickly slips below the surface and into the depths of the cold Pacific Ocean.  Phenious pauses for a moment as he easily breathes underwater while enjoying the surreal floating-in-an-infinite-blue sensation.  The enjoyment doesn't last long as he quickly remembers he has to board his submarine and escape his soon-to-be doomed tanker.

Bringing his knees up to his chest, he slips off his shoes and quickly puts his swimming fins on.  With remote and shoes firmly in his grasp, he turns around and quickly locates his escape submarine.  Swimming towards the cigar-shape object mounted to the lifting platform, he allows his eyes to wander to the troublesome winches.  With his eyes, he follows the steel cables down until they disappear into the abysmal depths of the ocean.  It is only then that it hits him on how deep the ocean actually is.  His breathing becomes quicker and shallower as panic sets in.  Feeling that he'll immediately sink and be swallowed up for some inexplicable reason, he frantically swims towards the sub.  Looking around quickly, he half expects to see a shark bearing down on him; fortunately, no other creature is in sight.

Not allowing himself to relax, he arrives at the sub's entrance hatch.  Twisting the stiff door latch down 180 degrees, he quickly pulls the door open.  Pulling himself in the darkened interior of the sub, he swiftly shuts and locks the door.  Breathing a sigh of relief, he blindly feels for the large button near the door - once found, he smashes down on it.  Instantly, waterproof lamps illuminate, and electric pumps activate to suck water out and to pump oxygen in.  Moving towards the controls, he sits down and readies his sub for immediate departure.  Once all the water has been expelled, he reaches up and pushes the locking lever up that releases the sub from its moorings.  With an audible _'clack'_, he knows he is free and ready to go.  Putting the sub in reverse, he slides the sub off its mounting rails and into the open ocean.

Once he backs up far enough from the Freed Dragon, he unwraps his backup remote control.  Flicking the red safety cover off, he flips the switch.  Craning his head around, he looks up through the front window and sees the slow moving, idling propeller of the tanker.  Satisfied that he is safe from the massive prop, he presses the illuminated 'ARMED' button.  A receiver mounted to the hull picks up the remote's signal, and seconds, later the propeller begins to spin faster and faster, pushing the heavy ship away from Phenious.  Situated on the hull, Phenious sees a bright, flashing red light indicating the explosives are armed and knowingly, will explode in less than ten minutes.

Turning his submarine away from the doomed tanker, he sets it to a maximum speed of six knots at a depth of fifty feet towards the direction of Anaheim.  With ten minutes-worth of distance between him and the tanker, he shouldn't receive any damage from the concussion blast.  Keeping close tabs on his timer, he watches as the minutes slowly tick away.

Phenious is anxious for the final second to disappear from his display.  Seconds felt like minutes to him as he waited and anticipated the result of his deeds.  When the time had arrived, he braces himself and continues to wait.  A few seconds after ten minutes, Phenious' wait had come to its end – the concussion from the explosion shook the submarine and threatened to implode its construction.  In a few minutes, the Freed Dragon will be six hundred feet underwater along with his two cohorts.

With a smile on his face, he thinks to himself, _"Dead men can't tell any secrets, right?"_

*     *     *     *     *

Sitting next to his friend, Liam mentally kicks himself over and over again as he waits for his friend to regain consciousness.  Rules.  Rules are the most important thing a mercenary has to live by if they desire to remain free and alive.  Since working for Phenious, they have ignored two of the _most_ important rules.  One is to never trust outsiders, and the second is to always know how to get one's self out of a situation before even getting into it in the first place.

He and Angus _trusted_ someone like Phenious not to sell them out… not to screw them over… and this is where their trust had landed them.  Stranded on an out-of-control tanker sailing towards a who-knows-what-kind-of fate.  Mentally kicking himself again, he knows how powerless he is at stopping the actions that were already in motion against him.  Phenious had Liam and Angus in Check Mate.

 "We'll find a way out of…." Liam begins to speak encouragingly to his friend when an explosion throws him and Angus off the deck.  Angus slams back down on his back, while Liam's face almost bounces off the steel flooring.

Liam doesn't even have a chance to question what just happened.  The roar of water and a torrent of wind coming up from the staircase explain everything.  He knows that an explosion just ripped a hole in the ship and water is pouring in, displacing the air and forcing it up onto the bridge.  Liam's mind skips into panic mode; he needs to find a way off this ship with Angus _now.  Rushing outside onto the metal walkway, he quickly looks around for anything that'll float – a lifeboat, a life preserver, a chunk of wood… anything.  He hadn't noticed it when they left Hong Kong, but the normal safety items on ships were conveniently missing from the Freed Dragon.  Cursing under his breath, he runs back inside._

"Come on, Angus!  Wake up!  We gotta get off this here boat!"  Angus doesn't move.  Checking his pulse one last time, Liam knows for a fact that his friend is still alive, but if they don't get off this tanker soon, he won't be for long.  Casting an eye at Angus' blood-soaked shoulder gauze, Liam knows he'll be a shark magnet, but he can't just leave his friend here to die.  If he were to have just one admirable trait, it would be loyalty to his comrade – something Phenious obviously knew nothing of.

Picking the heavy Scotsman up in a fireman's carry, he can feel his spine compress.  Ignoring the discomfort, he moves as fast as he can to the metal walkway.  Looking around, he notices the ship is significantly lower in the water.  Soon, the ocean will be over the deck and the Freed Dragon will be sinking faster.

Grabbing the metal railing the best he can, he descends the short staircase to the deck level.  Once on the steel deck, he rushes up to the metal lip of the hull that separates him from the ocean.  Turning around, he backs up and drops Angus into the Pacific Ocean.  He falls less than a foot before hitting saltwater.  Before the ship had exploded, if he jumped off the deck and into the water, he would've fallen at least ten feet.  Quickly heaving himself over the metal lip, he, too, hits water and immediately grabs his friend.  He has to get himself and Angus away from the tanker before it goes under.  If they were too close, they'd be pulled under along with the ship.

Frantically swimming with one arm, Liam holds onto his friend with the other.  Kicking his legs the best he can, he is able to get far enough away from the tanker before it finally slips under the surface.  Geysers erupt as the last remaining air pockets find freedom that signal the ship's departure from the realm of the living.

Holding his friend with an arm wrapped around Angus' chest, Liam looks around bewildered.  In every direction as far as the eye can see he sees nothing but ocean.  For the first time in his life, Liam is truly scared.  Faced with the very real possibility of drowning, he feels fear's icy hand grip his heart and his mind.  He knows they are at least four miles from the shore of Anaheim – he could never swim more than a quarter mile at one time.  He didn't know what would claim their lives first, hypothermia from the cold ocean or the sharks that inhibited it.

Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, Liam takes control of his mind.  _"All right, damnit!  If ah'm gonna die, then ah'm gonna bloody die tryin' to save me an' me mate's hides."_  Liam thinks as he galvanizes his mind into action.  Turning towards the shore, he begins his rhythmic kicks and strokes, inching his way towards dry land. 

"Hang on, Angus!  Ah'm gonna git ya to tha shore, or I'll die tryin'!  Geist don' you bloody well give up on me!"

After ten minutes of swimming, Liam is exhausted.  Concentrating on floating, he tries to regain his strength.  Making sure that Angus' head is above the water, he desperately tries to muster the strength to do likewise.  Spitting salt water out of his mouth, the same nagging voice that haunted him from ten minutes ago speaks louder in his mind.

_"You're goin' ta drown, Liam.  Ah hope ya enjoyed your last day on Earth.  Remember today's date, October 6, 1997, 'cuz it'll be yer last day alive!  All because you **trusted** Phenious….  Congratulations.  Ya earned a one-way ticket to a watery grave… yer fish-food, mate."_ If ever there were a 'grim reaper', this would be it – one's own mind resigning itself in defeat.  Refusing to give up, Liam struggles to move his tired arms and legs.  He is only able swim for a few more minutes before his body finally gives out.

Despite his best effort to keep his head above water, it is becoming noticeably more difficult.  Swallowing a mouthful of seawater, Liam doesn't know how much longer he can stay afloat.  Drowning… he couldn't think of a worse way to die than drowning.  The thought of Phenious getting away with his crime enraged him, but there is nothing he can do to change that.

_"Ah swear, if ah die out here, ah'll haunt yer bloody arse, Phenious." _Liam thinks to himself hoping for revenge.  His head dips under water for the briefest of seconds causing panic to surge back through his body.  Desperately kicking his feet, he forces his head back into the air.  Treading water for two people is exceedingly difficult.  The ever-present fatigue and cold ocean water take their toll on him; his kicks are becoming slower and his muscles begin to cramp.

Just when he figured he could no longer move his legs, a strange, but familiar sound catches his ears.  Turning around, he sees a rubber raft speeding towards them.  Recognizing it as a Coast Guard ship, Liam doesn't care.  He instinctively throws an arm up in the air and desperately signals for help.  Seconds later, the muzzle of a rifle greets Liam and the still unconscious Angus as the raft pulls up.  Catching a glimpse into the eyes of the marine wielding the rifle, Liam can see he had no qualms about pulling the trigger if he resisted.  Liam didn't care; he is too exhausted to have any fight left in him.

After Angus is on-board, the sailors pull Liam in and handcuff him.  Lying on his stomach with his hands behind his back, Liam turns his head towards the closest sailor. "Thanks, mate." Liam says softly before immediately falling asleep.  With an almost content smile on his face, he doesn't care if he goes back to prison – he is grateful he and Angus are alive.  Soundly asleep, the ride on the jostling rubber raft back to the damaged Coast Guard cutter doesn't wake him.

*     *     *     *     *

Arriving at the gated entrance to his house, Phenious pays the cab driver his fare and tips him more than what would've normally been expected.  Feeling especially good about pulling off a successful salvage operation, he happily whistles to himself as he walks up his driveway in soaked shoes.

_"Ha ha, the best part, no one suspects anything.  The sub is still underwater, and the scuba gear is disposed of."_ He thinks to himself.  Arriving on-shore in his scuba gear didn't raise anyone's suspicions as divers are constantly exploring the coast of Anaheim.  _"Best of all, no one was around as I tossed my gear into that dumpster.  So, no one can pin it to me, either."_

Feeling that everything was going his way, he checks his watch.  It read 3:30 in the afternoon and he knew that Tina would still be at the office.  Walking inside his house, Phenious kicks off his waterlogged shoes and immediately heads to the shower.  He has, after all, a dinner date with his unwitting secretary.

Forty minutes later, he parks his new, red convertible Ferrari F355 Spider in his personal spot in the executive's underground parking garage of the Vipertronix building.  Making his way towards the elevator, he can't remember when his expensive Italian casual clothes felt this good on him.  Success seethed from his pores; he felt that everything he touched would turn to gold.  Entering the elevator, he presses the top floor button.  Confidence is with him.  Looking at his reflection on the mirror-like finish of the elevator, he wonders how she could say no to him.

_"Heh heh, who knows?  The way things are going lately, perhaps I won't have to seduce her… she might try to seduce me."_ He thinks with a devilish smirk etched onto his face.  Seconds later, the elevator doors open, and he steps out.  Sitting directly in front of him, Tina is at her desk looking ravishing as he last remembered her.  With his hands in his pockets, he half struts, half walks towards her.

Looking up from the files on her desk, she sees him at once.  A look of shock and surprise is instantly plastered onto her face.  She watches as he rests a hand on her desk and leans a little towards her.

"Tina, my dear," Phenious begins his well-rehearsed line, "you are looking as radiant as ever.  If you'd allow me, I would like to ask you to…." Phenious begins to say as his office door opens followed by the sound of men's voices.  Righting himself up, Phenious comes face-to-face with two men dressed in black business suits.  They instantly notice Phenious; one man pulls out a gun, the other a badge.

The man with the badge speaks, "Phenious Viper?  FBI.  You are under arrest."

*     *     *     *     *

Curled up on the couch in the dayroom, Mallory mindlessly flips through yet another fashion magazine.  Turning to the last page, she throws it down on the floor in disgust.  Forcefully exhaling, she squeezes her eyes shut as she begins to roughly tap her forehead with her index finger.  Angry with herself, she makes a mental note to stop buying Earth fashion magazines.

Sitting in his usual place in front of the darkened TV, Nosedive sighs.  "Man!  I'm bored!  Nothin' to do and nothin' good on TV…."

Opening her eyes, Mallory looks at Nosedive.  She softly growls to herself; she refuses to be drawn into another game of Let's-find-something-for-Nosedive-to-do.  Instead, she simply speaks through her clenched teeth in a menacing tone, "Nosedive, turn on the TV and find something.  If you don't, I will beat you with this magazine."

Turning his head, he watches as the redhead retrieves the magazine and rolls it into a smacking weapon.  Knowing Mallory well enough to take her seriously, he immediately picks up the controller and hits the power button. 

"… this was the scene hours ago as Phenious Viper, owner and president of Vipertronix, is arrested in connection with at least two bank robberies in the California area." The female voice of a local news anchor announces over the footage of Phenious being lead into a nearby police precinct for booking.  "Also arrested in connection with the heists, Liam Connelly and Angus McGowan.  Currently admitted to Saint John General Hospital, they are aiding authorities any way possible in this investigation…."

"Well I'll be…." Mallory says dropping her magazine.  Standing up, she quickly leaves the dayroom to go inform the rest of her teammates.  Seeing that Mallory had left, Nosedive flips the channel until the bored mallard stops on an unlikely interesting station, The Weather Channel.  

"Hmmm, high of 96 in Miami… lows in the 60s….  Wow, 88 in New Jersey?  Hate to be stuck in traffic there…." Sitting up, he becomes fascinated in the sterile and repetitive programming.  "A high of 68 in Saint Paul, Minnesota?  Sixty-two in Bismarck, North Dakota?!  Lows in the 40s?!  I should _totally_ go there!" Standing up, he leaves the TV on as he excitedly runs out of the dayroom to go find Wildwing.  As the sliding, metal door closes behind him, the absurdity of his vacationing choice never enters his mind – he is too focused on going to North Dakota.

*     *     *     *     *

Standing in the brightly lit conference room over looking the techs manning their computer workstations, forty-two year-old Major Williams confronts his boss, Colonel Marshall.  "The President is an idiot!  Why are we waiting for that _lizard_ to fix his ship?  Why don't we send in the Navy to pound him to fish food?" The brown-haired major demands.

Countering his subordinate, Colonel Marshall replies, "That _lizard_ has valuable technology that the President wishes to acquire once it is repaired.  We don't have a clue on how to repair it.  So… we wait."  Pacing back and forth, Marshall continues, "I can't say I like the plan anymore than you do, but _our mission_," he says adding stress to those words, "is to keep an eye on him."

Looking out the conference room window and at the techs, Marshall adds, "We need R&D in on this." Colonel Marshall's black operations group is a unique organization within the Department of Defense.  Unique in the sense that no one knows about them, and that they have access to a secret Research and Development, R&D, division within the military.  Having nearly endless funding, Colonel Marshall can have almost anything developed and implemented to aid them in completing their mission.

Turning to face his junior officer, Marshall says, "Also, call in Gordo and Max."

"Max?  Are you sure you want him in on this operation?  The guy's a flake!  Half the time he is mentally here, other times… who knows?  The guy is unreliable.  Besides, he just came back from a mission yesterday!"

"I don't agree, Todd.  Max is very reliable, and he _never_ gives up.  Being held hostage and tortured in Central America for all that time?  That would've broken most people's will." Marshall's voice becomes harsher than its usual gruff sound.  Unconsciously raising his voice, he begins pacing again.  "Hell, most people would've gotten out of the military, got a cushy civilian job, and wrote a book about his life story!  Max didn't _have_ to come _back_ to this job and be neck-deep in this shit!  He came willingly!" Colonel Marshall hardly ever swore, much less raised his voice at others.  He considered it unprofessional behavior to display in front of his subordinates.  Pausing for a moment, he collects his thoughts and calmly speaks once more.

"Yes, Max has certain 'problems', but what would you expect considering where he came from?  My boss once told me that if someone had _a lot_ of personal problems, the best way to help them is to work them.  Keep them busy.  That way they can work through their problems a little at a time instead of being overwhelmed all at once." Marshall says as he lays a hand on the headrest of one of the nearby chairs that surrounds the long, conference room table.

"Do you think it's a good idea to keep Gordo and Max together as a team?  I mean, wouldn't it bad for them to form attachments with one another?  We should probably change partners out every few missions…."

"No, we'll keep Gordo and Max together on this one; they work well as a team." During training exercises for upcoming missions, Colonel Marshall has observed that Max has opened up more to Gordo than anyone else in the black operations group.  He couldn't place his finger on it.  Maybe they had compatible personalities.  Maybe the older and wiser Max has befriended the younger and inexperienced Gordo to guide and mentor, Marshall didn't know.  He didn't really care, either.  He'll do whatever needs to be done to crack Max out of his shell.

Looking out into the darkened work area before him, he sees the soft glow of numerous monitors – almost rhythmically, the light bluish light silhouettes a human head.  Before stepping down the three steps that lead into the cave-like room, Colonel Marshall turns his head and speaks over his shoulder.

"Get those R&D guys in here with Max and Gordo.  We need to brainstorm ways to get into the Raptor to keep tabs on Dragaunus." He gruffly says before slipping into the blanket-thick shroud.


End file.
